


Overwatch: Masochist Whores

by SlutWriter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bestiality, Body Worship, Cock Worship, Competition, Degradation, Eating Disorder, F/M, Harem, Humiliation, Masochism, Mental Illness, Miscarriage, Multi, Other, Parent/Child Incest, Physical Abuse, Raceplay - Asian/White, Raceplay - Middle Eastern/White, Racial Degradation, Rimming, Shotacon, Smegma, Threesome - F/F/b, Verbal Abuse, Vomiting, Watersports, huge penis, slob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-05-27 12:59:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15025106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlutWriter/pseuds/SlutWriter
Summary: Heroes from Overwatch engage in their sordid desire for degradation, humiliation and physical defilement.





	1. Tracer + Widowmaker

**Author's Note:**

> Big Fucking Disclaimer: This story is not an attempt to add something nuanced and thoughtful to the Overwatch fandom but rather a taboo, extreme stroke fic meant to aid in masturbation, which happens to carry the trappings of the Overwatch universe. It is unbelievably lewd and without redeeming social value. Make sure you understand this and temper your expectations accordingly before reading any further.

“Say it, idiot.”

The voice was young. Sinfully young. The high, mischievous voice of an 11-year-old troublemaker. Lena Oxton, prostrate on all fours with her skin-tight yellow bodysuit torn open at the crotch, was in a state that her many doting admirers could hardly have envisioned. Her surroundings were filthy - a poorly-kept dwelling with snack wrappers and dirty laundry everywhere, dimly lit and smelling of sweat and stale food. Her gorgeous body, delicate and flamingo-like in it’s slender length, was lit only by the glow of a nearby television and the jaundiced yellow of table lamps. It was an untidy place, roughly lived-in, with the aesthetics of an adventuresome clubhouse for naughty boys. Porno mags were scattered on the floor alongside unwashed dishes and cum-stained sheer boxer briefs.  
  
“Cheers, luv! The cavalry’s- mmmph!”  
  
The boy’s insistent hand left the Playstation 7 controller for the first time in hours and grabbed a fistful of Tracer’s signature short, brown hair, pulling her roughly forward. Her face was thus jammed into his naked, splayed crotch, and a pair of pink, hairless balls the size of grapefruits muffled the end of her familiar statement. Beads of rancid, video-game-marathon ballsweat aerosolized into Tracer’s nasal passages as she inhaled in surprise, bathing her nose freckles in scrotal folds and swampy, humid boyjuice. Most 11-year-olds would blush and stumble over words at the sight of Lena’s warm, animated face, but this child was a different animal, one far removed from the cult of personality she’d acquired as Overwatch’s most cheerful field agent. In this dilapidated house, instead of being celebrated, she was treated like human waste.

And she loved it.  
  
“Nnnngh… I love the smell of your knackers!” Lena moaned, eyes shut, rubbing her face into that nutsack like it was a treasured teddy bear. Her voice had some of her usual pep, but also an undercurrent of mewling devotion that was unlike her more public self. She sniffed again, inhaling loudly, pulling the loose skin into her nostrils even, wanting every waft of that cock musk to invade and brutalize her senses. She figured it was the least she could do for the rude, brutal kid that she now considered her owner. It had not taken long for Spike to prove he was different. Instead of asking for her autograph, he’d slapped the piss out of her the first time they met. Instead of being flustered by her cuteness, he’d grabbed her ass, called her a slag, and told her to start sucking his cock. He’d proceeded to spit on her, tear her bodysuit open and rape her like a stupid whore in a filthy bathroom. And god, she had let him, and cum her brains out with her face jammed against the back of an unwashed urinal.  
  
She could still feel his cock inside her from that day - and he hadn’t even put in the whole thing! For an 11-year-old, he was huge. She remembered the way it had changed her permanently, so large and insistent that her body seemingly couldn’t refuse to accommodate every contour of it. From that moment on, young Spike had been her very unofficial boyfriend. His name was fitting, for the easiest way to describe him was to say that he had sharp edges. His pale, slender body was a gangly strait of gothic flesh in a diminutive package. He seldom wore more than a pair of black boxer briefs slung low on his pre-pubescent hips like a gunslinger, displaying his perfect skin and the thin tightness of his torso. Lena’s eyes were constantly drawn to his smooth pubic area and the sinews of his hips, which dove past his low waistband in a “V” delta toward the cotton-satcheled bulge of his fat cock. In the semi-darkness he so often inhabited, his eyes seemed to burn like emerald lamps beneath the jet-black shock of jagged hair that flew in stark contrast to his porcelain skin.  
  
“Shut up, you stupid piece of limey shit,” the boy spat at Tracer, not removing his eyes from the large wallscreen, where he was ensconced in a thrilling match of Call of Duty Eternal Warfare: The Omnic Threat. His pre-adolescent voice only doubled down on the inappropriateness of the relationship. Though she was 26 years old and an adult, Lena couldn’t help obeying every word that Spike said, and mewled at his redress, sliding onto one shapely hip beside his chair. From there, she lay her head on it’s side, sucking one of his fat testicles contentedly, letting the sloshing orb fill her mouth, reaching between her legs to finger her tight quim through the revealing tear in her bodysuit. Beneath the small patch of her pubic hair, the lips of her puffy twat were needy, swollen out from the joining of her thin, toned thighs and slick with wetness.  
  
“Oooh! I _adore_ the way you talk to me, love!” The rough treatment was having a shameful effect on Lena, leaving her cooing like a love-struck strumpet. On the screen, an automatic rifle was gunning down omnics by the dozen. As a supporter of omnic equality and peace, Lena should have been appalled, but she was too busy fingering herself, with every headshot and splatter of electronic brains making her more wet. The part of her that felt relief in casting off all her responsibilities as an Overwatch agent was turned on by the Spike’s constant prejudice and violence. Her chronal accelerator and harness, the source of her powers, was cast against the wall, disused and covered in refuse. Spike had repurposed it as a place to throw empty soft-drink cans, snot-filled tissues and apple cores.  
  
It was Lena’s preoccupation with suckling happily at Spike’s balls that allowed Widowmaker, her arch-nemesis, to get the drop on her. Stepping into the shadowy room wearing only her plunge-necked bodysuit and metal sollerets, Amélie LaCroix was a study in how much tits and ass one could wag around and still be a potent killer. She wouldn’t need her rifle for this, however. It would be a confrontation of a much more intimate nature. Silently, she maneuvered her high-waisted hourglass form into a position behind the lewdly prone Tracer…  
  
...and then moved to kneel beside her, mirroring her pose on the other side of the boy’s chair. “Greedy bitch,” she admonished. “You thought you could have him all to yourself?”  
  
The two elite agents sucked on the boy’s heavy ballsack with half-lidded eyes, rivulets of drool sliding down the swollen flesh, their mutual desperation betrayed by the eager slurping and sucking noises being made. Amélie, whose body temperature never fluctuated much above her surroundings, could feel the pulsing, churning swirls of sperm as bursts of heat against her lips as she performed her sordid act of ball worship, stretching her jaw to try to swallow as much sack as she could, wanting to prove herself more useful than Tracer. Lena, not to be outdone, bathed her side in hot, moaning breath, bobbing her head slightly back and forth, essentially fellating the sweaty, salty cum orb, interspersing wet, lengthy licks with fierce suction that pulled the scrotal skin taut. Through it all, the boy’s massive cock was waiting, half-hard draped over one of his thin thighs like a looming serpent. A normal kid his age might have shot his load already in such a situation, but Spike had barely turned his attention away from his video game. In some subtle way, being ignored and disregarded appealed to both Lena and Amélie.  
  
“Mmm… your balls are so fucking big, _mon amour_ ,” Amélie cooed in her sultry voice, and of course with her smoking French accent it came out _zo vucking beeg_ . She punctuated the statement with a deep kiss into the smooth, grapefruit-sized cum sphere.  
  
“And so filled with cum!” Tracer added, her voice, though desperate and filled with emphasis, providing a contrast to Widowmaker’s low purr. Her sucking motions became even more exaggerated, her open lips battening on the boy’s ballsack while she bobbed up and down, slurping wetly and hollowing her cheeks out with humiliating ball-suction. “Nnngh… I want it all over my face!”  
  
Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed. “ _Putain stupide_ , it is my turn!” she objected, and moved her gorgeous, high-waisted body to rub suggestively against the boy’s thigh, crawling whorishly over him. “Why would master use you as a toilet when he could have me?” As with most things, all of her words sounded even dirtier in a French accent. Master became _mastaire_ , but in any inflection the meaning was the same. She considered herself the property of the violent and abusive sociopath 11-year-old that had subjugated both her and her English arch-rival. Kissing up Spike’s smooth, boyish thigh, she reached hand over to his cock, which was flopped across the opposite thigh, nearer to Tracer. Well over a foot of arm-thick meat, and only half hard. Completely hairless, moving from a lighter hue at the base to a blood-filled pinkness nearer the foreskin-covered head, it was a grotesque addition to the boy’s otherwise pale, athletic body. As Spike was all of 4’9” tall, it was long enough to hang past his knee.  
  
“Please, let me clean the filth from your dick,” Widowmaker moaned, sliding one hand between her legs, her pussy warming up just enough for the blue to mix with pink, juices running down the insides of her thick thighs. Her strategically-torn bodysuit exposed her crotch completely, and she closed two fingers around the nub of her clit as she begged. These same fingers had ended more lives and changed more world history than most could ever imagine - but now they were reduced to rutting in her tingling twat while she begged to disgrace herself even more.  
  
Lena’s expressive eyes went wide as Amélie made her move on Spike, trying to be his ‘favorite’ for the night. Not about to take that lying down, Lena also wormed her body forward, arching her back and rubbing her tits over the boy’s knee. Her trademark contoured bomber jacket, once a treasured possession, was now buried under a pile of laundry somewhere, covered in cum and piss stains. Her bodysuit was torn completely at the top, leaving her ultra-perky tits, with their cymbal-shaped puffy nipples, to rub over Spike’s thigh and cock without impediment. “Forget that blue-skinned bint,” she hissed, eyes fierce and wanton. “I’ll be your _sewer_ , love. Let me suck the smegma off of your smelly cock. The longer you’ve gone without washing, the better I like it!” Her face was earnest and determined, an expression that would have been funny if it weren’t so disgraceful considering her words.  
  
Spurred into action by Lena’s slutty rejoinder, Widowmaker took the next step by pulling Spike’s half-hard cock toward her face. It was long enough that it dipped down at an angle past the point of her grip, requiring her to lift it higher so the tip would hang before her before her face. The crown of the boy’s cock was dripping yellowish-white goo, as it more or less constantly did. A thick, puffy turban of foreskin wrapped the apple-sized tip completely, culminating in a hanging protrusion that looked like the sleeve of an unworn shirt. Widowmaker let this rub over her face, smearing her features with accumulated filth, before poking her thin nose into the smegma-clogged opening and inhaling. Her eyes immediately rolled back into her head and there was a squirting noise as she splattered her own thighs with wetness.  
  
“Nnnnngh!” she moaned, knees trembling. In turn, Lena shifted her body closer, refusing to be outdone, placing the two fit-bodied females hip to curvaceous hip on the sticky floor, their cunts and assholes exposed completely in the rear view as they leaned forward to service the unparalleled feast of dick before them.  
  
“Just because you’re French doesn’t mean you’re the only one who likes stinky cheese!” quipped the horny Brit, and reached out to pull the sweaty shaft back in her direction. Eyeballing the foreskin, she slid her her tongue inside the opening as far as she could. The cock was so large, and Spike’s cockhead so big, that her entire tongue fit inside the dirty sheath, allowing Lena to dig sluttily inside it, feeling untold drifts of rancid cock detritus pile up on her pretty pink tongue. Before she could withdraw the copious treat, Amélie recovered from her cock-stink reverie and joined in, leaving both Oversluts with their agile tongues buried in the boy’s filthy foreskin. They moaned, fingered themselves, eyes half-lidded or rolled back with utter depravity, feeling their wet mouth-appendages gather bubbly lumps of gooey smegma as they rolled them around, sometimes even bumping them together in their quest to clean Spike’s 11-year-old kiddie cock as thoroughly as possible.  
  
It was this needy, depraved cock-cleaning display that caused Spike to finally toss aside his Playstation 7 controller and grab each agent by the hair, pulling their faces away from his prick helmet. Both women were disheveled, their faces slick with pre-cum and sweat, their eyes looking dazed, lost in revelry. His jutting, hardening prick hung enormous, equidistant between their two faces. It was sinful to see his small hand controlling both of their heads with a handful of hair, but that’s exactly what the boy did, looking down at them with uncaring, emerald-eyed disdain, as if he were watching cockroaches instead of humans. They extended their tongues to him, Tracer and Widowmaker side by side, hip to hip, their bubble butts visible behind them, their bare, perky tits hanging in the moist air. Their tongues, agile and thin and suggestive of far too much, were covered in greyish-yellow lumps of bubbly smegma. It was hard to say which of the women had collected more. It was piled an inch high on their tongues, the smell exploding up their noses and fueling the dripping of their exposed pussies. Their arms fell limply to their sides and they moaned animalistically.  
  
“Nnnngggghhh…”  
  
“Mmmmmlllgg….”  
  
“Chew it,” Spike ordered, and he was immediately obeyed. Like cash register drawers on the close, both tongues were drawn in with haste, and suggestive chewing noises and sounds immediately followed as Tracer and Widowmaker competed to show Spike which one of them could more satisfactorily feast on the chowdery remnants of sweat, cum and piss they’d slurped out of his foreskin. The stink and overpowering taste of the goo overwhelmed their senses and sizzled in their brains, removing all rational thought. Their chewing motions became even more exaggerated.  
  
“F-fuck it tastes like _shit_ ,” Lena moaned, gargling the mess as it mixed with her saliva, chewing it with open mouths smacks, dipping her fingers in her mouth and rubbing the contents around her lips. “It’s _amazing_.”

“I love… mmmph... being raped by your filth!” Widowmaker offered, showing her wide-open mouth to Spike and gargling in the back of her throat. “My face… my body… destroy them both. Ruin them, master.”  
  
_Ruin zem, mastaire._ Said like that, what pre-teen sociopath/sadist could refuse? __  
__  
Spike’s hand darted out and slapped Amélie in the face, turning her abruptly to the side. She mewled with pleasure at the abuse. “You like eating smegma, don’t you, you fucking piece of shit?” he asked.  
  
“God, yes, master. Thank you for slapping me!”  
  
“And me! I like it even more than her!” Lena added, her voice partially muffled by the cheekful of sludge still in her mouth. Spike’s hand let go of her hair long enough to paintbrush her face as well. A splatter of vaginal wetness sprayed the floor as Tracer had a minor orgasm just from being backhanded like a hooker. “F-fuck... feels so g-good!”  
  
“Now swallow, you worthless pigs.”  
  
Their gulping motions were as exaggerated as the rest of their worshipful actions, showing Spike every detail of their accepting his waste into their bodies, their angular chins pointed up, allowing him to see every detail of their bobbing throats and sculpted facial features as the results of their cleaning efforts traveled down into the confines of their respective taut stomachs. Folding her hands over her thin and shapely midriff, Lena shuddered again, her cheek still red from being slapped. “It feels so… good to have part of you inside me,” she moaned, almost orgasmically. “Please never wash your dick again! I’ll be your personal cock-cleaning service!”  
  
“No, let me!” Amélie asserted, eyes alight with purpose. “I can take more abuse than this thin little girl!”  
  
Spike only laughed cruelly, his cock still bobbing on front of your faces, slick with spit, the foreskin pulled back slightly, revealing his heavy pisshole, still leaking rivulets of foul pre-cum. “I bet you dumb whores would love that. You want a tryout, Lena?”  
  
“Y-yes, sir!”  
  
“Say ‘Cheers luv, I’m a stupid piece of cock-sucking shit!”  
  
Lena gulped, then her face twisted into a humiliating fake happiness as she intoned the phrase with her trademark Oliver Twist accent. “Cheers, luv! I’m a stupid piece of cock-sucking-”  
  
*CRUNCH!*  
  
Spikes hand flew again, punching Tracer squarely in the face and causing her to keel over with a thump. Her goggles split in half and flew to opposite sides of the room. The boy laughed cruelly, the first time he’d really become animated since the two dumb bitches had arrived for their daily service. “You don’t know how many people have wanted to do that since you first started making the fucking news,” he taunted, then followed by viciously mocking her.  
  
“ _Sweep yir chimnee, guv’ner_?” Spike chirped, in an uncannily accurate imitation of Tracer’s voice. “ _I’m Lena the stupid slag! I get randy when I suck my mate’s big fat gorilla dick! It’s ace!_ ” He laughed, and Amélie laughed along with him.  
  
“You see, master? She is down from one punch. She does not deserve you!” The femme fatale punctuated this assertion by rising from her position and bending over suggestively at the waist, showing off her amazing ass and long legs, pulling apart her cheeks, showing the 10-year-old every detail of her asshole and wet quim. Both were buried in the valley of her perfectly-formed assmeat. The purple-blue hue of her cold-blooded body only made the pose more exotic, and if she had any heat remaining inside her, it was clear exactly where it was. “My body is already… experimented on. _C'est... cassé_. _Détruit_. Violé. Now it is yours to rape.” Her eyes smoked with the suggestion of a thousands nights to come where she could be taken to the brink, used as a toy and discarded. Her wet, leaking twat and the contours of her perfect form made her case. And yet, Amélie should have known that the world’s sexiest woman could no more manipulate this boy than could the world’s sexist insect. Before him, she and Lena were both less than human.  
  
*THOCK!*  
  
Her answer came in the form of a powerful punt right between the legs, the boy’s sharp calf mashing her clit and crushing the wet lips of her sex. Amélie’s eyes bugged out and she groaned, clutching her wounded twat and rocking back and forth on one hip as she lay on the ground.  
  
“Shut the fuck up,” Spike simply said. “You sound like a fucking retard. If I want to be reminded of your country of frog douchebags and wine-sipping faggots, I’ll tell you. Otherwise, keep… your mouth… shut!” Now standing, the boy loomed over her and punctuated the last words by raising his voice and booting Amélie in the ass, causing her to jiggle with the impact. He was totally naked now, his body alternately smooth and scrawny in all the right places. His dragonfly-green eyes glimmered above the dark circled that surrounded them. A spurt of lumpy cum splattered out of his pisshole as he stretched and cracked his back, his mass of jagged black hair washing over his ears and neck. A reaper mind and the countenance of an incubus, savage, vicious, and lacking mercy. The type of boy who would get a lip ring as soon as he turned fourteen, a skull tattooed on his shoulder after high school. Lena and Amélie whimpered from the floor, unable to articulate what was obvious - that the forbidden beauty of male pre-adolescence and the forbidden depths of amoral sadism had come, for them, in the same package.  
  
Spike turned his back to them and walked over to look out the window, legs spread, half-hard cock hanging pendulous between his legs. Recovering from their respective beatings, the duo of disgraced agents crawled behind him, mewling like kittens and extending their tongues to lick at his taut ass, galvanized by his tender years into being the equal of Tracer’s in the bubble department. They worshipped him silently, dragging their tongues over the pale crescents of his 11-year-old ass, Widowmaker on the left, Tracer on the right, slurping and sucking at the flesh.  
  
“May I please lick your asshole, master?” Tracer said, her nose red and her expressive, beautiful eyes watery from the impact of the boy’s fist. “It’s the only thing I’m good for!”

Widowmaker caressed Spike’s compact butt, squeezing it worshipfully and with a lewd and hungry sense of speculative lust. “No, let me, master” she objected. “I want to… make out with your shithole. Please just… sit on my fucking face!” Her voice was a thirsty French-accented slur, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she licked and rubbed her nose on the buoyant butt of her pre-pubescent owner. Spike only stared silently out the window. It had grown dark, but the moon was full, overpowering the dingy, half-open blinds in the dwelling and casting his light skin in even more stark relief. Absently, the boy reached behind himself and grabbed the hair of both kneebound sluts, bringing their faces together in the vicinity of his asscrack, knowing the implied order was obvious.  
  
They spread him like two famished hogs at a trough, pressing their faces and tongues into the boy’s sweat-glistening crevice, their tongue-tips meeting around his asshole, perfectly hairless and fading from his white skin to blood-engorged bubblegum pinkness toward the center. Together, Tracer and Widowmaker sucked and licked at his rim, each of them keeping one soft buttock spread so they could slurp more readily, their eyes heavy with lust. They pressed their noses together and rubbed them against the sensitive ridges of his young anus, sniffing loudly, hauling droplets of days-old, video-game-marathon sweat up into their sinuses.  
  
“Me first, bitch, you know your tongue is ice cold and it bothers him,” Lena growled, using her bubbly hips to nudge Widowmaker slightly to the left and claim sole ownership of Spike’s hole. Sticking her tongue out as far as she could, she pressed it into the loosening pucker and started to lick around the inside of the boy’s bowels, loving the swampy taste of his sweat and ass-juices, her pussy wetter than ever. Amélie had to content herself with arching her back even more, dipping her torso lower to suck at the boy’s heavy, hanging balls and cockshaft. No sooner had she flicked her tongue out at his pisshole than the orifice delivered a splatter of steamy pre-cum onto her lips, causing her to mewl and finger herself even harder. Widowmaker sucked and slurped lewdly from the boy’s balls to his taint, moving back and forth, her mind caring only for the perfection of her cock-worship.  
  
Tracer fastened her wide mouth around Spike asshole, spreading him with her two hands. Her tongue still exploring his moist inner walls, she began to suck powerfully, taking such hard pulls on the boy’s puffy, smooth anus that the hole was pulled toward her mouth. She was literally sucking his ass while Widowmaker milked his massive cock downward and all over her tits and belly, the constant spurts of virile, thick pre-cum giving her uniquely-colored skin a dolphin-like sheen.  
  
“Fuck, you’re a shit-eating whore, aren’t you?” Spike hissed at Tracer, using onehand to jam her face harder into his asshole.  
  
“F-fuck yes! I love the taste of your shit!” It was all the frantic Overwatch agent could pull her spit-covered face away from his pucker long enough to say. She was about to dive back in when Widowmaker shoved her aside with one bulging hip and spreading Spike herself.  
  
“Don’t listen to her, master,” hissed the purple-hued femme noire, gripping the boy’s butt suggestively. “I’m the only one worthy to be your toilet. Can you imagine? To keep the deadliest woman in the world locked away, chained up as your personal latrine - using my throat as your septic tank any time you wish. You do not even have to get up from playing your games, _mon chere_ .” She punctuated her words by sliding her long tongue around Spike’s hairless, sinfully underage asshole, before pushing it inside for a while to slurp the steamy juices from his inner walls. “Just... _utiliser mon visage…_ sit on my worthless French cunt face, master. Make me suck your ass every moment of every day, and do what comes naturally.”  
  
She continued to perform a serious pedo-butt-sucking of her own, and Lena joined her. Together, their long tongues did the tango inside the boy’s sphincter, their hands rutting in their crotches, their hot breath (or in Widowmaker’s case, room-temperature breath) washing over his massive dick. Lost in the moment, they lubed each other’s gleaming breasts with their spit and Spike’s leaking issue. When they pulled away after minutes of filthy ass-sucking, Widowmaker spotted a fleck of shit on Lena’s lower lip, and kissed her rival deeply, her hatred for the other woman overpowered by her desire to defile her body with Spike’s waste. They sucked on each other’s tongues, their breasts pressing together, nipples rubbing and hardening. Their thighs and pussies were soaked, as was the ground beneath. All in all, the intense two-woman ass-slurping session had lasted nearly fifteen minutes, and Spike’s huge dick was nearly at full mast from the depraved attentions he’d received.  
  
Turning, the boy grabbed both women by the hair and started to drag, like a victorious caveman. Of course, at 4’9 and maybe 95 pounds, the wiry youth couldn’t pull either girl along with then scrambling on their knees, but this was a duty to which they eagerly took. Neither wanted to be the one to slow him, not because they feared punishment, but because they feared rejection - the case where the slow or disobedient girl might be discarded, leaving the victor with all of Spike’s attention. Punishment they could handle. Punishment, they actually craved, so twisted had their boy-fucking, cock-addicted minds become.

It was to the bedroom that Spike took them, over the none-too-clean tile floors of the kitchen hallway. The bed was unmade, and posters on the walls depicted weapons and acts of violence. Here was an ominous symbol with an omnic and a gun, next to a Celtic cross over the words “The only good omnic is a dead omnic.” Fetishistic pictures of alternative women were all over the walls. Over the bed, most notably, was a poster of a blonde-haired, blue eyed woman being brutally choke-fucked by a tattooed cock. “BITCHES AIN’T SHIT” the bold lettering read. Cum-strained boxer shorts, reeking of ball-juice and dried stiff, hung over the bedposts. Tracer and Amélie had been in the room before, of course. Many times. They spent nights alternating sleeping with Spike’s dick in their mouths, while the other slept on the floor, collared and chained to the bedpost.  
  
This time, they were thrown unceremoniously onto the black bedspread, the room lit only by moonlight and a weak, dingy bulb on the ceiling that the spiders had long ago spun a shroud. The boy, eyes, gleaming, twisted their hair to get the women to turn onto their backs, their heads hanging over the end of the bed, lining up almost perfectly with his brutal 16 inches of hairless, perfect pre-pubescent cock. Lena and Amélie, growing excited, moaning like pigs. Tracer’s heart quickened. Widowmaker, incapable of such things, nonetheless felt a sense of “aliveness” that surpassed even a killshot.  
  
“Fuck my worthless face,” Tracer moaned, opening and fishhooking her mouth like a whore as if to prove the point. “Use my throat like a toilet!”  
  
“No, me first, master!” countered the long-haired vixen, cupping her tits and tugging furiously at the pert nipples. “I can’t wait any longer! I can take your cock better than this… this... English bitch!”

Spike laughed, cracking his knuckles. “Well, we’ll see who wants it more,” he said, and his works hung ominously for a second in the semi-darkness as he let his leaking cocktip bob against both of their cheeks, watching as they strained their tongues and lips to orally service it while maintaining their positions.  
  
“Me!”  
“No, please… me, master!”  
  
In the end, it was Widowmaker who got first run, and when it happened, it happened suddenly. Spike poised his heavy cocktip at her plump and inviting lips and shoved inward with little or no hesitation, drilling nearly a foot of boy-cock into her gullet before anyone could even blink. He gripped her heavy breasts in his small hands and kneaded them roughly, his fingers making deep indentations in the flesh, pulling the nipples into cone shaped and twisting them, using the mounds as handholds while he filled her. Amélie’s surprised moan was obliterated by the fleshy sound of dick invading her throat, and her neck, slender and bird-like normally, bulged out obscenely as her face was reamed deep and hard by an 11-year-old cock as thick as her bicep. Spike began to fuck in and out, withdrawing almost all the way before driving back in to a depth of about a foot. Amélie’s normally sultry and cultured voice was nowhere to be heard, replaced by a series of indiscrete, humiliating gagging and glottal noises as saliva poured out of the seal between lips and dick and down her forehead, into her hair. Spike’s balls banged into her eyes, smearing throat-slime and pre-cum everywhere. When he pulled away, long strands of gag-cream still connected his heavy ballsack to Amélie’s face.  
  
He slapped and groped her tits while she fingered her cunt roughly. “You’re a piece of shit,” Spike hissed, pounding away at the Frenchwoman’s tight throat. “It takes so long for you to warm up, it’s like fucking a dead body.” He drilled deep on his next thrust. Bubbly spit and cum poured out of Amélie’s nostrils as her eyes rolled back in her head, and then Spike withdrew.  
  
“S-skull...f-fuck me…” she wheezed, coughing. “It’s the only thing this ruined body is good for!” She sputtered and a yellow-white mouthful of bubbly goo poured out of her mouth and slid toward the floor over her upside down features. Spike laughed, using her dangling ponytail to wipe his dick, and stepped to the side and putting his leaking cockhead up against Tracer’s lips.  
  
“Say it!” he said, and hocked deep before spitting in Lena’s eager mouth. She chewed and swallowed his phlegm like a pig, kneading her breasts and fingering herself all the while.  
  
“The world could always use more her-”  
  
_GLLLCH!_  
  
The brutal pre-teen boy buried himself as deep in Lena’s throat as his tight hips could manage, bulging her neck out obscenely and even causing a cock-shaped protrusion to push upward in her stomach area. The British Overwatch agent was so thin and perky that there wasn’t much room inside her for such a brutal dick… and the results were clear as Spike surged forward. Lena was unable to take as much of the cock as Widowmaker, but she was desperate to try, reaching around behind Spike to caress his ass, wanting him to push harder, not caring if she was hurt, if she choked. He began to pump away as deep as he could go, banging at the narrowing obstruction of her throat.  
  
“You can’t even suck dick as good as this dumb whore, you worthless cunt!” Spike spat, and give Tracer’s nipple a rough twist. She only moaned around his lip-stretching meat, dry heaving. Gurgling, she expelled a lumpy mixture of spit, throat lube and pre-cum from the tight cock-seal of her mouth, obscuring her own face. Her eyes rolled back in her head and rivulets of fuckjuice started to leak into her corneas. Spike pushed harder, cutting off her air, pumping brutally into her mouth. The sounds coming from their coupling were obscene, wet choking and gagging noises that needed no translation. After several minutes of this, Spike pulled out.  
  
“I ought to throw you in the garbage,” he hissed, spitting on her already-wrecked face. “You can’t even swallow twelve inches!”  
  
“N-no, master!” Lena objected, her voice hoarse from the brutal fucking. “Please, do it harder. C-cut off my air! Rape me until I get brain damage and I’m a fucking retard!”  
  
_GLLCH!_ __  
  
Spike did not need to be asked twice, and drilled as far as he could into Tracer’s mouth, his young, slender hips powering him forward, gripping her by the chin and head like he was fucking a melon, taking every bit of leverage he could. He reached the obstruction in her throat again and powered through it, pressing forward inch by inch until his cocktop was up against the entrance to Tracer’s stomach and his spit-loaded balls were swabbing her face. She hitched and an explosion of syrupy, regurgitated cum exploded from her nostrils and out of her mouth around his cock before he pulled back out.  
  
“Fuck, I love choking on your dick,” she moaned, gasping and leaking sperm out of her mouth. Treat me like shit! Make me fucking puke!” Spike drilled back in, fucking harder and faster this time, and Tracer reached around him, encouraging him to face-fuck her more brutally. There were wet, fleshy sounds as her windpipe was rearranged and her stomach battered by the invading cock, the bulge in her neck and upper torso sliding up and down in time with Spike’s thrusts. The boy’s heavy, cum-loaded balls banged off her face. Twice more, Spike withdrew and Lena turned her head to the side to let a torrent of spit and cum barf grotesquely out of her mouth, splattering the floor. When her body tensed in orgasm from the brutal treatment, it seemed her young partner was at his limit as well, and he surged forward as hard as he could and lodged his massive cock deep as deep as it would go in Tracer’s throat, reaching new depths, literally drilling his cock into the warm, inviting sac of her stomach. There was an airy crunch as Lena’s nose splintered from the impact of his pubis.  
  
“Nnngh!” growled Spike, teeth gritted. His balls twitched and his urethra seemed to pulsate as a an age’s worth of backed-up cum began to deliver itself straight into Tracer’s body. The prone brunette was barely conscious enough to moan, the utterly degrading sensation of being filled starting to overtake her. The spurting, cum-sputtering sounds of Spike’s orgasm were audible from inside Lena’s body as her innards were hosed down with lumpy, yellow genetic filth that had been fermenting in the boy’s heavy nutsack for weeks. The ball-porridge puffed out her stomach almost instantly, stretching it. Tracer’s taut belly bulged as though she were in the early stages of pregnancy. Greyish-yellow sludge exploded out of her nostrils as the backed-up wad flowed up her throat. Eyes rolling back into her head, she finally lost consciousness, shuddering to another orgasm. Her bladder let go and she pissed all over the bed and walls in an explosive arc. With the boy’s 16 inches of god-cock buried inside her tiny body, Lena’s body shuddered with seizure-like convulsions… and still the spurts of cum continued, puffing her belly up even more. Formerly a decorated force for justice, she was now nothing but a flesh sack for an abusive boy’s stinking seed.  
  
Spike’s withdrawal left her catatonic, and he groaned with satisfaction, the same sound one might make after taking a satisfying and long overdue shit, as he fisted his slime-coated prick and dumped several coiling strands of nasty jizz over Tracer’s rape-wrecked face. Lena’s tongue was out of her mouth, her eyes rolled back, snot and sperm running from her nose, her features plastered in filth. The room was immediately filled with the stink of sperm. Uncaring for her condition, Spike pressed his pisshole up against her vacant eyeballs and spewed ropes of his coagulated, gelatinous cum into them, defiling her even more, in every way possible.  
  
“Stupid whore,” he spat, then tilted his dick over to Widowmaker to fill her mouth with the remnants of his orgasm, which was finally subsiding. Letting her fasten her pert, dark lips over his pisshole, he strained the last, thickest remnants of his sperm into her mouth.  
  
“Nnngh… your cum… tastes like rotten dogshit,” she moaned, fingering herself and chewing wads of lumpy pre-teen cocksauce. “It smells so bad...like a dead animal baking in the sun... _merde_ … I… I adore it, master. So much.”  
  
“Then have as much as you want, you filthy skank,” Spike taunted, and pressed his pisshole up against one of her nostrils. With an upward stoke on his sweaty dick, a grunt, and a twitch of his smooth young balls, a burst of porridge-thick semen splurted into Widowmaker’s sinuses with an audible sputter. She immediately jammed four agile fingers into her soaking twat, barely able to comprehend the seminal stink that was boiling in her brain and clogging her nose.  
  
“It fucking _stinks_ , nnnnngh!” The long-limbed seductress arched her back, lifting her bubble butt off of the bed while masturbating with cock crud filling her nose and puffing out her cheeks like a chipmunk. She sniffed, chewed, snorted, moaning and grunting like a big, cumming all over the sheets, spraying a jet of her own juices into the wall to mingle with the catatonic Tracer’s piss. When Spike slapped her face with his heavy cock, she mewled and came even harder. The boy repeated the action, again and again, beating her nose, lips, and cheeks with his mammoth meat, slapping the shaft against her tits, teabagging his balls on her cum-soaked face.  
  
“You really are a sick cunt,” Spike observed, pulling back at last, leaving Amélie to look up at him from the bed. Her throat bulged and then settled as she sucked down the mouthful of thick, lumpy ballsnot she’d been chewing. Any less time spent with her teeth breaking up the chunks and it would have been stuck in her throat.  
  
“Your semen is… so amazing,” Amélie mewled, spinning around on the mattress so that her wet pussy was close to him. “You are such a young boy, master, but you are like... a god.” Laying her hips flat, she used her assassin’s flexibility to put her long legs behind her head, presenting her pussy in the most stark and lewd way possible. It was soaked and bubbling with wetness, with visible rivulets running down her thighs and over the slightly darker purplish-blue of her asshole. Hooking three fingers from each hand into her twat, Widowmaker spread her sex, showing Spike every detail of her cunt, all the way to the glistening, gasping mouth of her cervix. The wet, pulsating opening seemed to be begging for dick.  
  
“Please,” Amélie begged, nibbling her lower lip. “Use my womb as… a sewer for your filthy, smelly cum.”  
  
Spike pulled his dark bangs back from his forehead with one hand and laughed cruelly as she humiliated herself. “Bitch, why would I want to fuck your infertile, used up twat? How many frog scientists jerked off into your putrid gash before you slit your husband’s throat?”  
  
Amélie moaned at his words. “I… I hope they all did!” she cried, desperately, her cervix twitching in the wet confines of her vaginal canal. “I hope they all fucking raped me! Who knows what memories they erased-”  
  
Her lewd imaginings were interrupted by a syrupy snort as Tracer regained consciousness. Her belly was swollen with sperm, looking partially pregnant with the weight of sloppy, steaming issue that was stretching her stomach like a bloated condom-tip. “Stop... showing off... your dirty minge!” Lena moaned at her rival, her voice sounding stuffy-nosed due to her crooked nose. Somehow, despite the change in her facial landscape, her peppy cuteness managed to shine through, even with her eyes rapidly blackening. Lena rolled over onto her side, cradling her cum belly, burping lewdly and then puking a stream of thick, lumpy yellow sperm over the side of the bed and onto the floor.  
  
“I’d hoped you were dead,” Widowmaker hissed, eyes narrowing in Lena’s direction. “But I have never been that lucky with you.”  
  
Tracer rolled onto her back next, looking up at Spike with her tits exposed and her belly sloshing with kiddie semen. “T-thank you for fucking up my face,” she moaned, spreading her legs to show that she was soaking wet. “I can’t wait to go out in public with a couple of black eyes and tell them that it was a 10-year-old who did it, beating me like a fucking hooker. I want to tell them all that I came while you did it, while you were pounding my face like it was a cunt!” She was getting her own self worked up even further, and more importantly, stealing Spike’s attention away from Widowmaker once again. “I want every little girl in England to learn to love getting beaten like a dumb bitch!” The competition between the two women to see who could be the foulest size queen pedophile masochist pig continued on, and each participant was as relentless as in they had been in their previous jobs.  
  
“You like getting hit, huh?” Spike asked, looking down at Tracer and smirking.  
  
“God, yes!” Lena choked out. “Every women should get the shit beaten out of her at least once a week. To make her remember how worthless she is-”  
  
WUMPH!  
  
Winding up, Spike drilled a fist powerfully down onto the bed, landing it squarely on Tracer’s swollen belly. There was a foul heaving sound from within her body, and then a torrent of yellowish, jelly-like semen, still lumpy even after many minutes in her stomach, erupted from her mouth accompanied by as undignified a hurling noise as could reasonably be expected. Much of the mess splattered back down on Tracer’s face, masking it in wad. The rest fell on her tits, the sheets, and the floor.  
  
“I love it when you show that bitch her place,” Widowmaker cooed, her pussy flexing, her legs still behind her head. “M-master, I… I can’t take it anymore. Please fuck me... with your huge child-cock! Make me your…your pedophile bitch!”  
  
“N-no!” Tracer choked out, spreading her legs lewdly and rubbing the splattered cum all over her upper body. “F-fuck me! I want you to put a baby in my belly with your thick dirty cum!”  
  
His cock rapidly rising again, a testament to his almost supernatural stamina, Spike crossed his arms and looked at the duo of cock-addicted whores who were begging him for a good cunt-pounding. He’d already throat-fucked Tracer into near chronal dissociation, so perhaps it was Amélie’s turn to be defiled. His balls twitched in anticipation of the forthcoming fuck. It was second nature to him to simply rape, uncaring about his partner’s condition or pleasure, and he had cultivated these women for just such an encounter. He stood near Widowmaker and placed his hands on her bent-back thighs while poising his fat cockhead at her gaping quim. The way she was spreading herself, it would be no problem for him to drive forward and drill his fat dick directly into her baby bag… and that’s exactly what he did, tensing his ass and thrusting forward with all his pre-teen body could muster. The outline of his heavy cockshaft was visible as he poured himself into the older woman, a tunneling presence beneath the taut perfection of her midriff, reaching her cervix… and crashing through it. Tracer cried out in frustration, wish it was her own moist cunt being filled… but the sight of Amélie being railed, and Spike’s tight young ass pumping away, was still enough to turn her on.  
  
For her part, Widowmaker moaned out as her most intimate places were defiled by a cum-leaking horse dick. There was a mortal stretching sound, almost a crackling, as his cockhead ripped through her cervix and tented the back of her womb up like the worthless dickbag that it was. The bulge in her midsection rose almost far enough for her to wrap her plump tits around it. Widowmaker’s tongue rolled out of her mouth as she foamed and drooled, overwhelmed.  
  
“R-rape a baby into me!” she gurgled, and so Spike changed his angle by fifteen degrees and pounded his cockhead up against one of her twitch oviducts, holding nothing back. “Fill my womb with your thick, smelly cum so I can give you a daughter!” She moaned orgasmically, almost screaming now. “Knock me up! Wreck my body!”  
  
Fingering herself furiously, Tracer couldn’t help but interject. “Don’t waste your cum on her!” Lena begged, eyes wide, looking plaintive even through the raccoon circles that were slowly developing. “Dump your fat load inside me! I don’t want to be part of Overwatch anymore! I want to be up the duff, sucking your dick every day with a big belly, ready to drop your kid!” She moaned to orgasm as she moved her face closer to garner more of Spike’s attention. “Nnnngh! I’ll be your baby factory!”  
  
“Never mind that skinny bitch!” Widowmaker spat, her body rocking and tits flopping as Spike pumped away. “Wreck my womb with your big dick! Fuck me up so bad that I have nothing but miscarriages!” There was a popping sound as Spike’s cock tunneled into Amélie’s fallopian tube, obliterating it’s proper shape and turning it into just another rape ditch. The French masochist whore had the most brutal, soul-crushing orgasm of her life as her ovary was crushed like a fleshy walnut. She could feel his pisshole vomiting rope after rope of heavy, yellow, lumpy semen into her tubes, filling them with the underage sadist’s rancid, smelly cum. She thought about how barren he was making her, how utterly and completely worthless he was for any reproductive purpose, and it only made her orgasm harder.  
  
“Fuck that!” Tracer objected, watching her rival’s mind-quake and wanting more of it for herself. “You can kick the shit out of me while I’m preggers! Beat me and fuck me until my baby is born fucking retarded! And if I ever have a healthy baby, scrape my womb out with your dick and drown it in your c-cum!” Watching Spike’s tight body hitch as he ejaculated deep into Widowmaker’s gaping pussy was enough to send Tracer over the edge yet again, interrupting the avalanche of English-accented filth pouring from her mouth and reducing her to moans. As it happened, after pouring a pint or so of thick cock chowder into Amélie’s destroyed womb, Spike pulled out and scrambled over to Tracer, drilling his cock into her much-tighter pussy, barely missing a stroke. The kid’s stamina was totally amazing. That, along with his cock and attitude, were the reasons that Tracer and Widowmaker had conspired to kill his parents (at his request). They wanted him all to themselves.  
  
As soon as the sixteen inches of meat was out of her pussy, a nasty, bubbling womb-queef propelled a waterfall of gelatinous cum out of Amélie’s gaping purple pussy to run down over her asshole and onto the bed. She was at least as mind-broken as Tracer had been earlier, if not more, her tongue hanging lewdly out of her mouth, eyed rolled back to the whites, her most intimate places a sewer of cum, her womb and oviducts stretched and displaced. Looking down her twat as if down the barrel of a gun, one could observe her cervix completely gaped open, and her twin fallopian tubes gushing fountains of pre-teen jizz into the cock-ravaged cesspool of her womb. She had been made utterly worthless as a woman, and loved every second of it. Minute spurting noises issued from between her legs as her cum-loaded egg chambers vomited gouts of garbage-stinking semen out.  
  
As for Tracer, a more petite body only meant more potential for damage. The boy hauled her shapely body, the figure that was her calling card, into the piledriver position, squatting and drilling down into her pussy with as much force as he could muster, letting gravity help him. Lena was so slender that the outline of Spike’s inhuman boycock was further pronounced, burrowing into her toned and tight body implacably, it’s location always visible from the way her midsection bulged out. At the terminus of his thrusts, his cockhead reached so far into her body that she could almost titfuck the bulge it made. When he crashed through her cervix and into her tight, petite womb, the sensation was so invasive and brutal that Tracer began shuddering, eyes unfocused, her voice reduced to a series of helpless gurgles. Leaning all of his weight on her, Spike drove down and hilted himself to the balls. There was a meaty, wet sliding sound as his cock pounded into the back of Tracer’s rape-ditch and continued upward, stretching her most sacred place into little more than a fleshy condom around his bulbous, cum-leaking fuckmeat.  
  
“Glllllhhhcchhh…” Tracer drooled, a look of delirious joy on her face, her nose crooked and her eyes black. Getting her womb destroyed was the greatest moment in her life. All of the pressure of being a woman or a complex human being of any kind was gone - she was nothing but a toilet for a kid who used her however he wanted. He’d extinguished her most vital life-giving processes as easily as he might blow out a flagging candle-flame.  
  
“T-thank...y-you…” she moaned, almost blacking out from the strength of the orgasm.  
  
“Looking forward to sucking your mongo baby’s dick, you stupid twat?” Spike hissed, grinding his cockhead into her… tenting her midsection like she’d been impaled on a post.

“Y-yes!”  
  
Grunting, the boy blew his third load of the day, pouring every last bit of cum left in his huge, smooth balls into Tracer’s wrecked body, choking her cock-crushed eggs with yellow, lumpy underage dicksauce. She screamed with ecstasy at this final blow, her upended position, with her legs splayed and at either side of her head, making her look like the complete sperm receptacle that she now longed to be at the expense of everything else in her life. As before, the lewd spurting noises could be heard even outside of her body, splurting dick-farts that indicated just how much thick spew was flooding her baby sack. Only after a minute or more did he pull himself free, his cumshot diminishing, allowing Tracer to drop flat to the mattress parallel to Widowmaker. Also like before, Tracer’s formerly tight pussy was reduced to a gaping, cum-queefing ruin, splattering a waterfall of wad down to the bedspread. Utterly defiled, the two rival agents lay shoulder to shoulder like corpses.  
  
Smiling, 11-year-old Spike held his softening dick in his hand, took aim at their fuck-addled faces, and began to unload a thick stream of steamy yellow piss on their features, sighing as he did so.  
  
“Fucking cunts,” he muttered. Looking out the window again, he saw the moon was full.


	2. Pharah + Ana

Fareeha Amari refused to be left out again.   
  
Her mother was Ana Amari -  one of Overwatch’s key players, a scout-sniper without peer - and had raised her to be assertive, strong, self-reliant. Just seventeen years old, Fareeha had already learned more about reconnaissance, martial arts, battle tactics, and firearms than most seasoned soldiers would ever know. It followed that the tall Egyptian girl, as beautiful as she was capable, seemed a perfect fit for Overwatch. She even had her ‘code name’ all picked out in preparation for the day she would join. “Pharah”.  
  
There was just one problem. Her mother didn’t want her daughter to join.   
  
In fact, despite teaching Fareeha all she knew and allowing her to hang around Morrison, Reyes and the rest of the team, Ana was dead-set against it. This, the would-be Pharah honestly didn’t understand. What did her mother expect? To teach her every trick in the book, raise her alongside a group of multicultural, multi-ethnic heroes who were saving the world… and then just send her away to a desk job somewhere?  
  
“Not in this life,” Pharah muttered, and used a handhold to pull herself further up the rock outcropping she was clinging to. Wearing nothing but a pair of sheer black athletic shorts and a black sports bra, she was a sight to behold, even if the only viewer was the Saharan sun. Pharah had insisted that she accompany her mother on her next scouting mission, and been flatly refused. They had argued bitterly. Now, the younger Amari was shadowing the older. If she could prove to her mother that she was capable of tailing her, right under her nose, Ana would have no grounds to refuse Pharah’s entry into the organization.  
  
Pharah knew her mother was somewhere atop the Saharan plateau to which she’d tracked her. There was no way to approach from the hilly side - it was blistering, alabaster sand in all directions, nowhere to hide. But to scale the rock facing on the opposite side, and crouch beneath the few sturdy palm trees that overlooked the adjacent valley - that she could do. Working her long-limbed body like the well-oiled machine it was (both literally and figuratively, for the Saharan heat was intense), she was only a few feet from clasping her hands on the plateau’s precipice and pulling herself to a proper vantage. From there, she would listen in on every detail of her mother’s operation. Her only protection was a sidearm, holster wrapped around one limber thigh like a garter. She didn’t expect to need it.  
  
Her ears, just as carefully trained as the rest of her, allowed her to pick up hints of conversation from the plateau, muddy at first, but clearer as she approached her destination, handhold after rocky handhold.  
  
“...been in this shithole two months…”  
  
‘...deployed ordinance…”  
  
“...the standard deal…”  
  
The rest of each scattered sentence was torn away by the sirocco. But as Pharah tensed her haunches and vaulted herself to the plateau’s edge, every muscle on her frame moving gracefully with the silent climb, she heard her mother’s smoky voice. “Oh, I’m so glad. It sounds… amazing.”  
  
Pharah’s brow furrowed. Far from the inflection of a veteran operative, her mother’s voice was very flattering and indulgent, a tone she seldom took. Pulling herself up over the edge and sliding up against a dense cluster of palms and waist-high grasses, the younger Amari got her first view of the situation.  
  
More than a dozen men - Americans, by the look and sound, had set up bivouac on the plateau. They were the thick-necked, gruff sort that Pharah had come to know from certain brief encounters in Egypt. Most wore fatigues, but without markings of rank. Likely a private mercenary company, in-country serving oligarchs who still had interests in the oil economies of the pre-omnic world. There were tents and several cookfires, and the men seemed to be settling in for chow, cross-legged.   
  
And her mother was...   
  
Her mother was...   
  
Topless!?  
  
While the men laughed and joked, Ana Amari was bringing steaming plates of roast chicken from the cookfires, placing them in front of each soldier with what seemed like reverence. She was wearing her combat boots and tight dun fatigues as normal, but the waistband was low on her hips, giving the man a hint of her hourglass figure… and her top was totally bare! While the men probably appreciated that Ana’s tits were large, firm, and still perky even at age 46, Pharah’s first reaction to her mother’s lewd exposure was quite different. As her mind whirled, it was all she could do to keep from crying out in shock and revealing herself.  
  
 _It has to be… a cover. Part of a mission. A distraction tactic!_  
  
The mercenary nearest Ana was telling a story. “So this hajji twat is crying, holding her brother or whatever, calling me an ‘American butcher’, and I’m like, ‘If he didn’t want to die, he should have gotten his hands in the air, the dumb camel-jockey!” There was a roar of laugher from the men, and Pharah’s mouth fell open as she saw her mother smiling and laughing as well! In fact, as Ana placed a plate of chicken and hummus next to the crew-cutted and boisterous man, she went to far as to rub a speculative hand over his crotch, her hand lingering on the generous bulge there, a heavy pipe-shaped protrusion of which Pharah, despite her young age, knew the looming import.  
  
“I’ll tell you what, that kid’s head exploded like a melon,” the soldier went on. “I mean, it was like ‘PBBBBT!’” There was more laughter as the man made a motion with his hands to demonstrate the splatter. “His goat-roper sister wouldn’t shut up so I dragged her into a building and slapped her around a little.”   
  
There was more laughter, and Pharah barred her teeth with humiliation and rage. Instinctively, her hand went to her sidearm. As the soldier’s interminable story continued, her paused between sentences to shovel chicken into his mouth and grope Ana’s bare breast with one greasy hand, all while the trim, sexy MILF was rubbing that big bulge in his fatigues. Pharah couldn’t believe how rapt her mother looked, how cowed, how she was hanging on every word of the disgusting tale. Ana’s small, dexterous hand stroked up and down the fabric-wrapped bulge lewdly, revealing a width the size of a soft-drink can. Pharah nibbled her lower lip unconsciously at the sight. Was it really that big?  
  
 _What are you thinking about_ , she asked herself.  _It doesn’t matter how big that obnoxious white man’s penis is… what matters is… what the hell is mother doing? Does she need help?_  
  
“So you fucked her right there in the alley?”  
  
“Yeah, while her brother was bleeding out. The slutty hajji bitch was begging for more by the end of it. Fingering her clit the whole time. Probably forbidden to get any dick by Allah.”  
  
“Fuck, you’re lucky she even had a clit,” a nearby soldier remarked, before turning to Ana. “These fucking rug-pilots cut ‘em off. Isn’t that right, you stupid Egyptian piece of shit?” The combination of his hick American accent and the mouthful of hummus he spoke through infuriated the eavesdropping Pharah to no end… but Ana didn’t seem to mind.  
  
“Yes, we’re a backwards tribe of cave-dwelling garbage,” Ana confirmed, moaning and rubbing her face against the man’s crotch, where another prodigious bulge was making the delta of his pants hang like a bag of apples. She was now groping two men at once from her position on the ground, her pert tits hanging free and being groped in turn. Her cultured, authoritative voice made the words seem even more obscene. And when the newcomer unzipped his fly and let a long, heavy length of sweaty meet fop on top of Ana’s face, Pharah could take no more.  
  
“Mother!” she cried, gripping her sidearm. Normally she would never compromise a mission, but the word was out of her mouth before the 17-year-old could even think. Everything she was seeing was so at odds with what she had expected that she’d become overwhelmed.   
  
Ana’s eyes went wide, and the two Egyptian women locked gazes at perhaps twenty paces distant. “Fareeha!” she cried.   
  
The immediate sound of weapons being picked up and aimed made Pharah instantly regret her decision. As much as she wanted an explanation from her topless and cock-cuddling mother, more than a dozen heavily-armed mercenaries were training their sights on her.  
  
“It’s a fuckin’ ambush!” the commander yelled, and for a moment it seemed like things might go very wrong.  
  
 _They’re going to blow me away_ , Pharah thought.  
  
“Wait!” Ana cried, but the men seemed to be ignoring her.  
  
“Bullshit, you said you were coming alone, you hajji hag!”  
  
“No, you don’t understand-”  
  
“Drop her on my mark.” Fingers tensed on triggers as the mercenary captain gave the order.  
  
Pharah’s pistol hand fell limply to her side. There was nowhere to go… unless she took a dive off the ridge she had just climbed. And in the face of a dozen assault rifles, a few palm trees weren’t going to keep her safe. It seemed the first mistake she’d ever made on a mission would be her last. But then, Ana’s voice called out again.  
  
“I brought her for you!” she cried. “My daughter! A surprise gift for you and the men… to celebrate all of our transactions in the past!”  
  
Sudden silence. The mercenary captain held up one hand and lowered his weapon slightly, looking from Pharah to Ana, slightly skeptical. His instincts told him something fishy was going on, clearly… but one glance at Pharah’s gorgeous teenage body - long, lean, with a jutting bubble-butt and large, perky breasts, raven-hair falling to the middle of the back, and the same elegant and noble facial features as her mother - made him want to believe.  
  
“Weapons down.”  
  
The tension dropped markedly, and Pharah was finally able to exhale. Perspiration slid down her body and through the gentle valleys of her abdominal muscles as she stood before the heavily armed, leering mercenary band. The leader, a crew-cut-wearing barrel of a man with a cigar stuffed in one corner of his mouth and a lantern jaw, approached her. He was maybe 35 years old, and wore the scars of battle. He was taller than she, and his arms were as thick as her legs. His chest was a keg. His blue eyes crawled over her like searchlights.   
  
At last he spoke. “And she’s fucking armed… because?” He turned to Ana.  
  
Ana seemed at a loss for words this time, her eyes wide from her position on the ground (and two guns aimed at her head). After a few seconds of silence, the commander just shook his head. “You’re a lying cunt,” he said to Ana, and then turned and trained his rifle on Pharah again. “I’m fragging this twat.”  
  
“W-wait! I took it without her permission! I was… scared!”  
  
 _Wait, is that my voice talking?_  Pharah thought, dropping the gun to the ground.  _Am I actually playing along with this?_    
  
The commander dropped his gun again, and favored her with an indulgent smirk. “So you were feelin’ unsafe, sweetheart?” he baby-talked her, looking at her like one might look at a lost puppy.  
  
“Y-yes!” Ana chimed in, from the ground. “Fareeha, she’s… easily worried. Please, ignore this mistake and allow me to show her to you!” Unbidden, Ana scrambled up from the ground and made her way over to Pharah, keeping her eyes low, not wanting to offend or agitate the mercenaries. Upon arrival, she shared a look of pure rage and contempt with her daughter, one that only Pharah was able to see. A look that said:  _You wanted to be part of Overwatch, Fareeha? Well, now you’re in very deep. And it’s your life if you don’t play along._  
  
Still, even with the glowering warning, Pharah blushed deeply and moved to cover herself when Ana reached out for her sports bra and pulled it quickly over her head, allowing her perfectly-shaped teenage breasts to fall free. Almost as quickly as her arms had flown to guard her chest, a firm hand slapped her face.  
  
“Fareeha!” Ana scolded. “You must not cover yourself in front of these men! They are your new owners!”  
  
 _Owners?_  
  
Cheek stinging, Pharah let her arms drop to her sides. She was now clad only in athletic shorts that were so tight they might as well have advertised the dimensions of her puffy teenage pussy and muscled ass on the side. “I… I’m sorry mother. Please forgive me.”  
  
SLAP!   
  
She was hit again, uttering a moan of dismay, and Ana’s scolding voice rose. “Don’t ask me for forgiveness, you stupid girl, ask them!”  
  
Pharah’s eyes rose up to look out over the plateau. More than a dozen men were watching her like apes - shoveling food into their mouths, chewing tobacco, cleaning weapons, rubbing their bulging crotches. Their knowing smiles, like they were watching two cockroaches interact instead of two women, infuriated her. But yet…  
  
“I… I’m sorry.”  
  
“For what?” the commander prompted, leaning in. She could smell the stink of his cigar.  
  
“For… for covering myself.”  
  
WHAP!   
  
This time it was the commander who struck her with an open hand on the cheek, driving her down to one knee. She cried out, his massive hand went to her hair, balling it up in a fistful and forcing Pharah to look up at him. Despite herself, her face must have maintained some of her old defiance - for her took his cigar out of his mouth, gathered a mouthful of spit, and unloaded it directly in her face. Pharah moaned with disgust as she was stained in his warm, wet saliva.   
  
“For being a stupid...Egyptian... cunt,” he enunciated, emphasizing every word, before prompting her. With his opposite hand, he tossed his cigar and lifted his rifle so that the gun-barrel was rubbing into the folds of her pussy, mashing into her clit through the sheer fabric of her shorts. “Say it.”  
  
“I’m s-sorry… for being a stupid Egyptian cunt,” Pharah moaned, and nibbled her lower lip despite herself as the gun-barrel pressed into her loins. When he hair was released, seconds later, it was her mother who helped her up.  
  
“Quickly, Fareeha - you must show them your body!” she urged, and used her hands to turn her daughter around. At Ana’s prompting, she would be made to take a new position. The older woman talked to the assembled men as she guided Pharah into the pose she wanted. “You will see she is worth what I ask for. She will satisfy you very well.”  
  
With 17-year-old Pharah bent at the waist and gripping the trunk of the palm tree, Ana ran her hand over one of her daughter’s bulging buttocks, so tightly wrapped in the the skin-tight athletic shorts that she might as well have been bare, for all the detail they hid. The older Amari gripped a handful of assflesh like a Middle Eastern peddlar showing off a prized melon, looking knowingly and licentiously at the assembled operators. Moving her slender wrist from side to side, Ana made Pharah jiggle for a few moments, clapping one spandex-wrapped crescent of flesh against the other, commoditizing her own daughter for their pleasure. One could almost imagine another time and place, the soldiers replaced by sultans, a semi-circle of men wrapped in robes of finest silk, waiting to exchange coin for flesh.  
  
“Isn’t she pleasing?” Ana cooed, acting subservient to the Americans in both tone in body language. “She’s a bit headstrong, and doesn’t know her place quite yet, but I’m sure she can learn, like I did. And the only price is information.” Tipping a wink, the older Amari bid Pharah stand, and used two hands at her daughter’s waist to turn her toward the men, placing her back against the sun-bleached palm, a statuesque teenage girl in climbing shoes and athletic shorts, a product with which to trade. Pharah blushed slightly, nibbling her lower lip, turning her eyes away.  
  
The assembled mercenaries were more than interested in seeing all they could of Pharah’s well-sculpted exterior. The lithe muscular definition of her abdominal region, glistening with sweat, was enough by itself to stop any pair of wandering eyes dead in their tracks, but she had other charms to spare. The shining black hair, for example, styled long and straight. The expressive eyes with the Horus-themed makeup on one side. Her gravity-defying teenage breasts, untouched by the ravages of time or rough handling, seemed to form a sort of invitation for roughneck grunts who were tired of the same worn-out whores. That, and the quality of dignity Pharah still possessed, her erect posture, long-legged and defiant, was something they instinctively wanted to defile and control. A modern reenactment of what their country had done to the region in the era before the Omnic Crisis, when the enemy hadn’t been killer synthetics but (or so the government alleged) jihadis with bombs strapped to their chests. Pharah could sense in their leering eyes a hostility she could not put a name to. She had even more reason to feel uncomfortable when her mother cupped one of her perky breasts, thumbing over the nipple and inciting a moan.   
  
“You knew we were tired of your used-up pussy, so you brought your cunt daughter along to sweeten the pot?” the mercenary commander spat, crossing two thick arms over his barrel chest. “Your little club has nearly put us out of business. We’re stuck guarding ammo dumps and refineries while you jet around the world and do all the high-profile jobs with Overwatch.” His voice was resentful, but the iron bar that seemed to be jutting out of the front of his pants told another story. The hard blue eyes that shone like diamonds beneath his crew cut seemed at once unyielding and interested. “Maybe I should just keep any information I have on the God Programs,” he finished. “See what I can do with it.”  
  
Undeterred, Ana gripped Pharah’s waistband and slowly pulled the tight shorts down her daughter’s ass, revealing two perfect bubble buttocks separated by a deep-set black thong that was so ensconced in teenage Egyptian assmeat that it had almost disappeared. Dozens of cocks  jumped in their fatigues at the sight. Looking back over her shoulder, the younger Amari, still gripping the palm tree, gave a moan that as half protest and half shamed arousal at being forced to show her butt to a dozen horny American mercenaries. “Mother, is this really how you get your information?” she hissed, trying to keep her voice low. The hooting and catcalls of the assembled men meant provided enough cover noise for her to make the attempt.  
  
“Hush, Fareeha,” Ana hissed in the same low voice. “Because of transactions like this, I’ve known about every ambush, enemy weak spot and evil plan for a decade or more - it’s what keeps Overwatch safe!” Seamlessly, the elder Amari gave Pharah’s ass a smack, then pressed her cheek up against it from a kneeling position, framing her face with it before licking slowly and suggestively up the side. Pharah shuddered at the wet, hot feeling of her mother’s tongue sliding along her sizzling flesh. The sun was pouring down on them, casting the entire incestous affair in light, making every bead of sweat glisten like crystal.  
  
“Y-you mean… you’ve been… f-fucking these white men… for every piece of intel?” Pharah whispered harshly, eyes widening, her voice a bit unsteady as her mother’s hot breath poured over her ass. But she’d been too loud… and she’d been overheard.  
  
“That’s right,” interjected the mercenary commander. “Your mother is a real cock-sucking piece of shit.” There was general laughter from among the men, and Ana’s face blushed, her eyes falling low with a mixture of shame and sick pride… but Pharah’s eyes flashed. It was all so unfair, to be insulted time and again by these louts, with their prejudices and bigotry predicated on old grudges, ethnic and nationalistic rivalries that she had thought long extinct. For a girl raised with Overwatch, an inclusive team of various genders, ethnicities and backgrounds, these men were anathema. It was wrong, and her sense of justice could take no more!  
  
“Don’t talk about my mother that way, you trash!” snapped the defiant 17-year-old, despite herself. “She didn’t raise me to-”  
  
SMACK!  
  
Pharah was jolted out of her sentence as her own mother struck her in the face yet again, bringing tears to her eyes with the stinging blow. Ana’s expression became stern and she cupped Pharah’s jaw in one hand and barked harshly at her. “Fareeha! You must never talk to white men that way!” Then, she turned to the assembled men and knelt down in an obscene sort of bow, as if praying… though all she was really doing was addressing a group of horny mercenaries, half of whom had their swarthy dicks hanging out of their military fatigues. Face down, ass up, the prayer-like pose took on a new and lewd connotation with the way her thick thighs and rear were protruding.  
  
“I’m sorry for such disrespect - my daughter is a stupid, loud-mouthed  _sand nigger_ ,” Ana apologized, grovelling and emphasizing the slur, the better to please the assembled men. Pharah’s eyes went wide at the term, but Ana’s voice carried on. “I… I have not raised her properly. Please, she needs a Caucasian man to slap her in the mouth and keep her in line. If you’ll only consider my offer, you can do to her whatever you like.”  
  
Pharah’s look of shock and confusion became almost comical. “Mother! You-”  
  
“Shut up, bitch,” the mercenary captain said gruffly, and then looked down at Ana again. “Maybe if your daughter sucks a good dick I’ll consider it.”  
  
Ana crawled forward and began to kiss and lick one of the leader’s dusty combat boots. “She’s inexperienced - mmmph… but her body is first class. I beg you, use her defiant whore face as a cock-sleeve for all of your amazing white dicks. It will teach her some much-needed humility!” Unbelievably, she was fingering herself against while selling her 17-year-old daughter’s throat down the river, rutting her hand in the crotch of her combat fatigues. Was she really getting turned on by this? Pharah thought back to her own feelings of arousal when her mother had been ‘showing her off’, and blushed with guilt. Still, it was all an act… wasn’t it?  
  
Whatever it was, the commander seemed primed to put her to the test. Kicking Ana roughly to the side, he strode over to Pharah and, using two rough hands on her shoulders, forced her to her knees, leaving her face-level with the grotesque bulge in his pants. It was like a snake, engorged and full of lethal promise, trailing down one leg of his military fatigues, and Pharah was just inches from it. Her nose burned with the scent of sweaty cock. Gulping Pharah tremblingly extended her hands to undo the man’s button-fly… and when she reached inside, the engorged length surprised her with it’s weight and heat.  
  
“It’s… so huge!” she almost whispered, withdrawing her hand and bringing the half-hard, vein-encrusted penis with it. It was thick enough that she couldn’t encircle it completely with her fingers, and long enough to reach almost to her elbow…at least 10”, perhaps 12. It cut an imposing image in front of her hesitant face, and framed as it was, she could see her prone mother past the commander’s legs, gathering herself, glaring at her.  
  
 _Do not disappoint me, Fareeha_ , Ana’s stern look seemed to say.  _An Amari… an Overwatch agent... does whatever is necessary on a mission. No matter how difficult._  
  
The catcalling and hooting men were congregating ever closer, and the commander crowed “Time to break her in, boys!” as Pharah was on the precipice of what to do next. Whether or not she would have opened her pretty lips and taken the fat dick into her mouth of her own accord would forever remain unknown, for the choice was forced on her when two strong hands gripped her head and the prick helmet shoved forward, giving her little choice. Several inches of thick meat poured into her mouth, stretching it open, making her eyes go wide, enhancing the pleading look. Pharah made a choking noise, and could feel lumpy semen leaking out of the man’s pisshole and onto her tongue as her mouth was stuffed with his engorged knob. As her pressed implacably forward, inch after inch, drool began to slide down Pharah’s chin and spatter on her gravity-defying teenage breasts, giving them an extra sheen. Her formerly dignified face was reddening, her throat hitching and making choking noises as she was roughly used. Then, after a minute or more of stretching her with half of his length, the commander pulled out, gripping her hair again and leaving her panting, a rope of cummy saliva connecting her lips with his prick.  
  
“Not bad for a first try,” he snarked, then slapped her face, sending strands of spit flying. “But you can do better.” Meanwhile, several men were dragging Ana to squat next to her daughter beside the cluster of palms, clearing wanting to get in on the action themselves. Now in close proximity, mother and daughter made hesitant eye contact before more button-flies were unsnapped and a duo of thick, sweaty dicks flopped down in front of Ana’s face. The older woman gulped… but did not hesitate, extending her hands to begin giving stroking handjobs to both flopping, lengthy Caucasian pricks. At the same time, the mercenary drilled his dick back into Pharah’s mouth, overcoming her tightness and sliding almost a foot of meat deep into her throat. The sight of Pharah’s slender, pretty throat bulging and gagging, her painted eyes welling with tears, was utterly obscene. She was only seventeen, but this white brute was using her as a blowjob doll. The sight was too much for Ana to bear - too erotic, too perfect. Her mind, enslaved by the strange, tawdry idea of Caucasian superiority, was firing on all cylinders.  
  
“I’m so proud, watching my daughter suck such a fat, powerful white cock!” moaned Ana, her smokey, cultured voice positively dripping with self-hating lust. Her agile fingers slid between her legs and massaged her crotch as the thick, insistent pole pounded wetly at the throat of her only child. “I had to keep it a secret, my dismay when she would see a boy of our race…I always hoped she would have a white boyfriend who would beat and rape her!” Even more obscene than the rapt sound coming from her mouth was the look of utter adoration in her eyes for the thick Caucasian meat as it stretched her daughter’s lips.  “That’s it, Fareeha! Let him use your mouth like a whore’s pussy - prove how good you are at servicing American men!”   
  
The commander loosened his grip and allowed Pharah to breathe. “Nnnngh! Glch! Mother! I… I can do it!” The younger Amari had nearly spat out the burly length of meat in her eagerness to respond, her eyes shifting to the side to make the address meaningful as the two proud, athletic Egyptian women squatted in classic cocksucking position, their tongues extended, their eyes gleaming and hungry above the elegance of their pharaonic makeup.  
  
Viewed from above by the assembled males, their jutting asses, mother and daughter, were alluring beyond measure. Pharah’s exploding in twin caramel-colored bubbles from the tight trappings of her black thong, was dappled with sweat from her climb, giving it an oily gleam that needed no further embellishment to kindle fantasies from every perverse Western mind in attendance. No less impressive was Ana’s rump, pouring out in a heart shape from beneath her tight tactical belt, her desert camo fatigues seeming to cling like a second skin. Even in her mid-40’s, the slightly shorter, stockier Amari female remained in her physical prime.  
  
“Fuck, if every hajji bitch had an ass like these two sluts, I might give up on blondes,” someone commented, and there was general laughter. The commander, brought to the edge moments earlier by Pharah’s tight throat, had a more direct and immediate response to the image of the two kneeling females - he tensed, groaned lewdly, and his pisshole twitched as gooey ropes of cum began to pump out over their features, first Pharah, then Ana, moving from one to the other, spraying his thick, heavy jizz-worms over their cheeks, noses, and lips, forming new, filthy architectures of semen.   
  
“Fuck, eat my fucking cum, you Egyptian cunt!” he spat, and Pharah and Ana moaned like whores as the heavy prick deposited at least ten ropes of pregnant, lumpy jizz on their faces, glueing Pharah’s nostrils shut and filling the air with the heavy copper stink of sperm. He was more animal and man in the way he was marking their faces, his own expression a rictus of release. And he was only one man among many. The others were quickly encroaching, murmuring and making dirty jokes among themselves even as Ana turned to her left and licked a strand of thick wad off of her daughter’s cheek.   
  
“Nnngh... it’s so much!” Pharah moaned, her decorated eye shut against the jizz that had been blasted over it, her voice clearly aroused. Whatever seen her mother had sown in her with regard to her expected role, and the enjoyment of it, was beginning to take root in her toned loins. Stripped as she was, her teenage body was flawless in it’s tightness and curvature. Her eye makeup and the relentless sheet of her black hair gave her the countenance of a canopic statue, ready to be cracked open by Caucasian dick, and her contents defiled.  
  
The men were beginning to surround them now, casting long shadows. There were uncut dicks, cut dicks, fat dicks, long dicks,  _hairy_  dicks… there were balls that hugged tight to the fat shafts above them, and balls that seemed to hang almost to mid-thigh. Cocks of all kinds, more than a dozen in a circle around the Amari women, and they all had two things in common - they were _big_ , and they were  _white_. The burnished skin of the two kneeling women contrasted each blood-engorged fucktool in a way that seemed to emphasize the difference in ethnicity all the more. When Ana raised her hands to jack a pair of the heavy flesh logs, each one reaching nearly to her elbow as her nimble fingers gripped the base, her encircling grasp was like a corona of polished leather around a sunburnt firehose. Her cum-streaked face took on an expression of dutiful awe.  
  
“We must service them, Fareeha,” she said, panting with lust, pulling the heavy poles while another length was dropped on her forehead. “Our only role as Egyptian women is to receive their cocks.”  
  
Pharah was roughly grabbed, the thong pulled from her crotch, exposing her pussy, with it’s plump lips and small thatch of dark pubic hair. One of the soldiers was on his back, his heavy cock jutting upward like a spike, and pulled her to straddle him… the implication was obvious. She was to lower herself onto his cock, gripping it with her tight pussy. Pharah had only a moment to wonder if her occasional romantic dalliances and ‘self-attention’ had prepared her for such a brutal piece of fuckmeat. Then, she was shoved into position by many pairs of insistent hands. On all fours, hovering above the man, she felt him grip her buttock and position his prick helmet against the slick, aroused lips of her sex. Then, suddenly, she dropped her body down and her was inside her. Deep inside.   
  
Pharah cried out. She had expected pain, but what she felt instead was an amazing sense of filling and friction. The sense of the rough, veiny penis scraping up and down the insides of her pussy, dragging along her slick walls, sending waves of intense pleasure through her young body… it was too much, and like no feeling she’d ever encountered before. Biting her lower lip, she lowered her head to the man’s chest and bathed his face in her scented hair as he bucked his hips upward in regular thrusts, skewering her and making her ass bounce enticingly while the other men watched and catcalled. The first orgasm came so fast it surprised her… and she felt herself slip, felt her mind start to acquiesce to the sordid circumstances. God, it felt good. It felt so good to fucked by a big, white cock. To be treated like a rutting animal. The size and insistence of the dick made all the difference. Pharah cried out as her body jiggled with a humiliating cum-quake. The men laughed at high-fived as they saw her cum.   
  
“F-feels… so fucking good!” Pharah moaned, any objections she might have had quickly being forgotten. A second man got behind her, poising his cock at the entrance to her tight asshole, and despite having relatively little experience in that department, Pharah embraced the impending violation, loving the idea of being treated worse… of being fucked more intensely. Something had been awakened inside of her, and she began to understand how and why her mother seemed to subservient to these men. She couldn’t get enough!  
  
“You want a dick in your ass too, don’t you, you stupid cunt?” the soldier taunted, forcing himself into her shitpipe, grunting at the tight fit.  
  
“Y-yes, I love getting gang-raped like a worthless  _dune coon_ ,” Pharah moaned back, her pussy and ass making squelching noises as the tender holes were cored deep by the duo of thick, long cocks. Her raven hair flew about her shoulders as the men above and below her found a rhythm and buried themselves balls deep inside her, her tits pressed against the lower man and sliding along his chest, her tight 17-year-old Egyptian bubble-ass bouncing and clapping. “It feels… so good! Mother, I never knew! Oh, I’m… I’m cumming again!” The younger Amari bit her lip and her long, powerful body went rigid, sandwiched between the two uncaring American studs. Her sordid, sickening cum-quake was seizure-like, there was no hiding it. Everyone present immediately knew the truth - Pharah was having the biggest orgasm of her life while being double-teamed by a pair of abusive Caucasian dirtbags.  
  
Ana was unable to respond to Pharah’s statements, since she was in a similar position - straddling the body of one sturdy mercenary, hands and feet on the ground, one fat cock drilling her pussy and one in her ass. They had ripped her pants off, exposing her 46-year-old MILF pussy, and added a new decree of difficulty by having a third man rail her mouth. Her throat bulged with each forward thrust as ten inches of throbbing, vein-ridged fuckmeat whipsawed into her face in rhythm with the other men, and the sounds she made, while less intelligible than her daughter’s fuck-addled babblings, were no less humiliating. The younger Amari took one look at the loose, swinging pair of balls bashing off her mother’s clit and knew she was seeing a mirror image of what she must look like in that moment. It only turned her on all the more to imagine how much cum was sloshing in those big, fat American balls.  
  
“Fuck, I’m gonna nut in this hajji’s bitch’s pussy!” cried the man underneath her, and Pharah cried out again as a wet heat exploded inside her, the man hilting himself in time with his fellows. He was ejaculating deep into her womb, there was no doubt about it - his long, thick cock was large enough to reach her very depths. In her mind’s eye she could see his pulsating prick helmet spurting out stream after stream of slimy white fucksauce into her unprotected baby bag. She’d never felt more like a used condom than in this moment. All of Pharah’s hopes, dreams, and ambitions went to the wayside as she embraced what her mother had obviously already taken deep into her heart… that, despite being at the height of physical perfection, she was nothing more than a sex toilet for Caucasian scumbags who had for generations thought her ethnicity fodder for drone attacks and waterboards.  
  
“Knock me up!” Pharah cried, her hands moving to rub and caress her own nipples. Her pussy and asshole now just one burning center of pleasure and fullness, ten inch prongs tearing up her twat and bowels, she was in a frenzy of utterly depraved self-hatred. Who knew being treated like dirt could feel so  _good_? “Breed me like I’m a piece of livestock!”  
  
“Yes, impregnate my daughter’s fertile Egyptian pussy,” Ana begged, able to speak for a moment as the cock in her mouth had withdrawn after loudly spewing a pint of lumpy ball-snot down her throat, soon to be replaced by another. “Don’t stop until she’s taken every one of your thick, nasty loads! We’re both worthless pieces of shit anyw- GLLCH!”  
  
A leaking, veiny cock being jammed into Ana’s mouth eliminated the rest of the thought. The situation was escalating, the men becoming increasingly animalistic in their frenzy of hate-fuck lust. Ana and Pharah’s asses bounced hypnotically as they were drilled from beneath and behind, the cheeks prevented from clapping together by the width of the penises that were being stuffed inside them. Their wet holes, dripping both cum and their own shameful juices, made lewd squelching noises as they devoured each prick to the root, a sleeve of pinkness being pulled out slightly with each cock as it exited, only to enter again. It was unimaginable to think such sounds could come from their bodies - sloshing, greasy sounds of their vaginal canals sliding wetly along white cock - but yet, it was happening. And both Amari women seemed to be loving every second of it. At regular intervals, sprays of their juices would splatter down over the fat balls of the man underneath, betraying the soul-crushing orgasms they were experiencing. After five minutes, or ten, or fifteen, more wet slopping sounds would be added to the sexual cacophony as the grunting, thrusting men emptied their fat balls unceremoniously and copiously. Their emissions were such that Pharah and Ana could feel and hear them, sprays of lumpy ball-chowder exploding into their wombs and assholes, while the men yelled racial epithets and misogynist slurs.  
  
“Take my cum, you fucking mud-skinned rape toilet!” cried one, digging his hands into the flesh of Pharah’s ass while spewing his pungent jizz deep into her drenched 17-year-old box. “It’s the only thing you’re good for!” And when he body went lax, enervated from the effort of plowing tight, teenage Egyptian pussy, he was replaced by another eager man, as the gangbang continued. Thick streams of cum exploded in Ana and Pharah’s holes with regularity, and sometimes men would pull out to enjoy the sight of their issue painting caramel-colored tits, asses, and faces. Men jerked off into Pharah’s armpits, used her hair to wipe the wetness from their dicks and balls. They slapped her, spit in her face, made her   
  
“I bet you can take this, you worn-out hajji hag!” growled one man, as he stuffed his powerful member into Ana’s MILF twat… which was already occupied by a large dick. Now being double-stuffed in her pussy, the elder Amari could only babble her approval, her steely eyes rolling back slightly from the sensation of having her cunt stretched by two brutal white dicks.  
  
“Y-yes! Pound my worthless fuckhole!” she warbled, cum coating her face, seeming barely aware of her surroundings. “Fareeha thinks much of her abilities, but age hasn’t slowed me down! I can still take more white dick!”  
  
“Shut up, mother!” Pharah called back, bouncing her hips to take all ten inches of a massive white rape blade deep into her pussy. “You always try to exclude me! But I can do it just as well as you!” Grabbing a nearby soldier by his unbuckled belt, she encouraged him to jam his dick into her tight ass… which was already occupied by the cock of the man underneath her. At first, her entire crotch seemed to press inward, unable to accept the two heavy penises… but eventually her butt relented and the two arm-thick rods began to tunnel into her. Pharah’s eyes crossed in undignified fashion and she began to piss herself, spraying the ground behind her like an animal, while her bowels were ripped apart.  
  
And so it went. The two Amari women were double-penetrated, triple penetrated, forced to handle dozens of smelly, sex-slick, cum-leaking dicks at the same time. They moaned like whores as they sucked heavy, sloshing pairs of hairy balls from behind squatting soldiers, licking their taints and asscracks as the men laughed and verbally abused them. Dozens of men unloaded into their pussies and asses, flooding them with semen. And of course, a great many pisshole were pressed up against their Eye of Horus tattoos, bathing the formerly regal markings with sperm. It didn’t stop until every man had cum extravagantly at least three times. Some went back for fourth, fifth, and sixth helpings of Egyptian cunt, especially with Pharah, whose athletic body, stamina, and young age made her a favored defilement target. When all was said and done, she’d taken over thirty loads of heavy sperm in her pussy alone.   
  
As their energy reserves waned, the men lost interest and went back to eating, having been interrupted in the middle of dinner. They showed no respect as they did so, talking to each other about the pair of “dumb Cairo cunts” they’d just pounded, among other epithets, leaving Ana and Pharah to lay in a cum-coated mess at the base of the palm trees once every white man was spent. They showed them no aftercare, no regard. It was like the women didn’t exist at all, like they were dogs or pigs, holes to be used and discarded.  
  
“Mmmmngh… mother…” Pharah moaned, laying on her back, head turned to the side, meeting her mother’s eyes. Ana was in a similar position. Their bodies were completely covered in sperm and sweat, their faces masks of drying cum. Drops of gelatinous sludge hung from their eyelashes, glistened at the corners of their mouths, decorated their erect nipples. Both of the women’s taut midsections were swollen slightly out in an undignified way, proof of the amount of cum they’d had pumped into their bodies. Pubic hairs dotted their lips and were stuck between their even white teeth. “I’m so… full…” Pharah added, slowly regaining her breath. Her body hitched and from her splayed thighs there was a burbling, queefing noise as her young pussy disgorged an eruption of sloppy cum that had been packed into her womb. It was an absolutely huge creampie, painting the insides of her thighs and her buttocks with sticky whiteness.  
  
“Y-you did well, Fareeha,” Ana admitted, even as her own well-used pussy was leaking it’s own waterfall of Caucasian cum. “I… I’m proud of you.”  
  
It was something her mother didn’t often say, and Pharah’s face took on a serene look. “It… it feels good to be a white man’s sand nigger fuckbitch,” she moaned, feeling her clit tingle. “I don’t want to join Overwatch anymore. I just… I just want to be raped and beaten.”   
  
Ana squeezed her wrist weakly. “I’m glad, Fareeha. Overwatch is dying from the inside. Morrison and Reyes… they’re at each other’s throats. It has no future - but we can be a family again, now. We can choke on American cock together.” It was the bonding moment that Pharah had always wanted, and the daughter smiled at the mother.  
  
“We’re stupid camel cunts, aren’t we, mother?”  
  
“Yes, my daughter. Yes, we are.”  
  
“Let’s forget the mission. Let’s… just stay here.” Pharah’s voice was breathless, hopeful. It was clear that all she wanted was to be roughly used. All of her training, her physical development, her mental toughness had amounted to this. The desire to join her mother and form an incestuous duo of comfort women for Caucasian soldiers. Ana nodded, rolling to her side, putting their faces close together. The two women kissed lewdly, sucking on each other’s tongues, snowballing pubic-hair-laced cum back and forth as they moaned. Only seconds later, a dismissive soldier dropped a metal tray next to them.  
  
“Here you go, you hajji whores.”  
  
It was their dinner. Like good camel cunts they were expected to eat what the superior American men had left behind - hummus scraped from plates, scintillas of chicken clinging to discarded bones, whatever juices they could suck from discarded fruit peelings. Flies buzzed around the haphazardly-piled tray of refuse, but Pharah and Ana’s eyes filled with grateful joy. “Thank you for being so generous!” moaned the elder Amari, rolling to her belly and crawling to hover her face over the ‘feast’. It was obvious the men had jerked off on what they’d given them - lumps of thick cum were splattered all over it, and stray pubic hairs were stuck in the hummus. Like a pig, she bowed her neck and began to slurp cum and half-eaten chicken off of the disused bones. Pharah quickly joined her, their cum-swollen bellies slung below them, their taut buttocks high, backs arched like sluts as they ate mindlessly on all fours. Slickness ran down the thighs of both women - they were being treated like slaves bought cheap at an ancient bazaar, and loving every second of the abuse. Their lives were much simpler when they were eating jerked-off-on refuse on all fours.  
  
“Nnngh, it takes so good… feels so good to eat garbage!” Pharah moaned, chewing open-mouthed, wirey pubes stuck in her teeth, showing her mother the mouthful of spat-back, cum-loaded hummus she was slurping. “I love being a white-owned sand nigger camel cunt!” And as they ate their fill, the men from the camp gathered around the waning cookfire, occasionally looking in their direction and directing racial slurs at them, Ana and Pharah became aware that there actually  _was_  a camel tethered at the far side of the camp - a gifted remnant of the bedouin corsairs who sometimes traded with the mercs for cigarettes and booze. Looking at each other with a sordid realization, the two women nodded and began to crawl pathetically toward the beast. Tied like animals next to the beasts of burden - that was where they belonged.  
  
Enduring insults and catcalls as they crawled like dogs toward the far side of the bivouac, eyeing the camel that they now saw as a kindred spirit. It was a powerful animal, it’s long neck leading to a head that hovered over seven feet high, and stood in split-toed obstinance. The 17-year-old Egyptian girl’s rape-wrecked mind brought her eyes immediately to the camel’s undercarriage, where a massive pair of balls, each the size of a cantaloupe, hung halfway to the ground.  
  
“God, mother, look at the size of this camel’s nutsack!” Pharah cooed, licking her lips, reaching out to fondle the heavy scrotum as she lay on one hip. “It’s  _amazing_!” The camel’s pink, sinewy cock began to extend from it’s sheath, thicker than her arm and seemingly two feet long, already leaking greyish issue from the spigot-like tip. Pharah moaned with lust at the sight of it, and Ana nodded her approval.  
  
“You must give this animal your pussy, Pharah,” Ana moaned, standing up behind the beast and clinging to it’s massive thigh. “Fucking smelly, backed-up camel dicks is the only use you have as a woman now.”  
  
“Y-yes, mother!” Pharah got on all fours beneath the camel, flies buzzing around her, reaching behind herself to spread her bubble-butt for the beast, enticing it to penetrate her with it’s 26 inches of brutal camel-dick, not caring what it might do to her. Wanting to make sure the penis was as diamond-hard as possible, Ana placed herself directly behind the camel and began to lick and suck it’s puffy asshole, savoring the taste, moaning like a whore while jamming her entire tongue into the swampy depths of the animal’s shitpipe, kissing the bumps and ridges of it’s anal ring, licking around it, loving the taste and texture.  
  
“F-fuck, I love the taste of your ass,” Ana moaned to the beast, acting like an indulgent lover dirty-talking a prospective beau. The camel, in her fuck-addled mind, was exactly the sort of mate she could be proud of to breed her daughter, who she now saw as less than human. “Please, tear apart my daughter’s tight Egyptian cunt. Ruin her womb with your smelly camel dick. Mmm! Mmmph!” She went back to rimming the animal’s asshole, loving the taste of camel shit, and then it surged forward, pounding the leaking, tapered head of its sinewy pink cock deep into Pharah’s pussy. There was no hesitation, no resistance - it was a powerful, barrel-bellied pack animal, not about to be stopped by the obstructions of Pharah’s body. It drove the younger Amari into the ground, drilling into her until it’s smelly, sloshing, low-hanging camel nuts swing up to bash against the girl’s belly. A huge, penis-shaped outline immediately appeared in Pharah’s midsection, and her eyes rolled back white in her head, her tongue falling out of her mouth. She vomited up everything that she had just eaten as her insides were battered, her arms going limp and her brain lost in catatonia from the rearrangement of her internals. Her womb was stretched like an overfilled garbage bag as the camel fucked deep into her, pissing watery camel-cum all over her brutalized reproductive organs.  
  
The men had gathered against to watch the spectacle, and cheered as Pharah was camel-fucked, watching as the girl’s belly stretched into a cock-shape at the extremity of every thrust. The athletic Egyptian girl was barely a shadow of her former proud self, unable to speak coherently, only babbling, moaning, cumming her brains out, begging the camel to ‘fuck her camel cunt’, ‘rape her sand nigger pussy’, and calling herself a ‘raghead’ and a ‘dune coon’. The sloshing sound as the camel began to orgasm deep in her body was perhaps expected, given the size of the beast’s massive, hanging ballsack… a grotesque dick-sputtering noise, making it obvious that huge blasts of thick, tar-like camel jizz were erupting inside Pharah, making her a camel’s bitch, staining her stretched out, permanently-ruined womb in stinky animal seed. Pharah blacked out with the biggest orgasm of her life as she felt her babysack stretch into infertile uselessness from the sheer amount of rancid semen being pumped into it. Her belly swelled out to make her look eight months pregnant as liter after liter of lumpy, chowdery camel spew filled her up.  
  
The men cheered, and Ana, having had her own orgasm just from eating camel ass, fell to her knees beside Pharah, caressing the girl’s wrecked body. As the camel penis shrunk and withdrew, Ana spread her daughter’s perfect ass and buried her face in her crack, taking the creampie explosion the face, sucking huge mouthfuls of camel seed out of Pharah’s destroyed pussy. “I’m so... *gulp*... proud of you… *gulp* Fareeha,” she moaned, knowing in her heart that she would probably not be returning to Overwatch. She and her daughter had found a new calling - servicing American men until they were so fucked-out that they could be literally thrown in the trash. To her lust-filled mind, it would be bliss… and the perfect form of family bonding.  
  
“I guess you’ve earned this,” the mercenary commander offered, holding out a data file. “It’s everything we have on the god programs. I have to say - you and your daughter are a couple of fucked-up hajji whores.”   
  
But Ana Amari, “mama bear” of Overwatch, didn’t even hear him. She no longer gave a shit. For all she cared, Morrison, Reyes and the rest of them could be killed… as long as she and her daughter could keep servicing white cock.   
  
“Keep it,” she said, eyes shining with lust. She, and Pharah, were finally where they belonged.


	3. D.Va + Mei

It was the most-watched livestream of D-Va’s career, and also the last.

She was being brutally womb-fucked by a 400 pound teen loser who was calling her a “worthless gook” between every sloshing, pussy-stretching thrust, and her friend Mei was less than ten feet away, on her hands and knees, wearing a dog collar. Every detail of the scene was being taken in by over 750,000 viewers, all of whom were utterly aghast that two renowned heroes of Overwatch would ever participate in such a thing, none of whom could understand the reason for what they were watching. Unbeknownst to the watching (and masturbating) world at large, circumstances had conspired such that the two heroines could only find satisfaction via brutal, self-destructive sex.  

Lack of success with conventional relationships had sent them both down very twisted paths. A little ‘more-so around the torso’ shouldn’t have precluded Mei, the shy Chinese climatologist, from having a normal sex life and relationships, but she became a victim of an increasingly technological era. In an age of light-construct artificial vaginas and VR indistinguishable from reality, Mei found that men her age were less interested in her realistically-proportioned body and more interested in staying home with their headsets and downloading idealized porn programs to fuck. Her shyness and social awkwardness had only exacerbated this problem, and before she knew it, she’d spent most of her twenties writing in her journal instead of meeting eligible bachelors.

Hana Song, better known as “D-Va”, had the opposite problem. She was inundated with no end of suitors, all of them eminently pathetic. While streaming combat operations, her chat was 80% lonely virgins typing “GRILL” and donating $100 to see her feet, and she found all of them to be really, really tiresome. The authoritative sexual presence she’d come to crave was nowhere to be found, replaced by a legion of limp-dicked losers who had printed her out on a body pillow. One night, over a few too many drinks with Mei, Hana had made a simple confession:

“Jeez, I’m tired of being put on a pedestal by these geeks! I just wish a guy would throw me down and fuck me, really hard!” Having unburdened herself of this revelation, D-Va proceeded to take a deep swig from a cocktail the size of a small birdbath. Considering she weighed perhaps 95 pounds soaking wet, the Korean teen was getting drunk quite quickly indeed.

After gasping and blushing deeply, Mei had lowered her eyes, looked to the side, and replied “...Me too. I... I haven’t had a boyfriend in 13 years! I just want to have...” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Sexual relations!”

D-Va had burst out laughing. “You can say ‘I want to fuck’,  _eonni_ ,” she giggled, using the Korean term for big sister, pronounced  _awe-nee_. She had come to see Mei as a very awkward older family member, only natural since the cute, chubby older woman was 31 years old and Hana only 19. “Come on, try it on for size.”

Mei looked comically around the after-hours club, as if she might be arrested by the obscenity police for expressing herself in such a lewd manner, and then drained the rest of her cocktail in order to steel her courage, her button-nosed face screwing up into determination.

“I want someone to fuck me!” Mei cried, her slight Chinese accent making the phrase all the more unseemly. Several people looked over from an adjacent table. “Someone with… with a large penis!”

D-Va burst out laughing even harder, and then nodded toward Mei. “That’s the spirit, big sis!” She clinked glasses with her friend, and drained the rest of her cocktail also. She should have been slurring, but was also hopped up on caffeine, taurine, sugar, Doritos, and Adderalls. “Before the end of this year, we’re going to get fucked so hard we break!” 

The conversation didn’t go much further than night, but both women seemed to silently acknowledge that there was a self-destructive streak fueling the entire operation. Hana Song had been treated like internet royalty by so many guys for so long, she felt like a statue upon which cobwebs were starting to grow. She wanted to be taken down from her dais and shattered into a million pieces by males who didn’t care about her skills or fame. She knew such men existed, in her private moments she read about them, and began seeking out racist, abusive males online like a moth heading toward the flame. If only her thousands of subscribers had known that it wasn’t donating that would get her attention most readily, but calling her a “stupid gook twat” and promising to fuck her until she couldn’t walk. There were really two D-Vas. There was the public-facing Stacraft legend, indomitable and fearlessly adorable, the ESports icon who had her own energy drink, makeup line, custom case-mods, and personalized line of Korean barbecue microwave snacks. Hana secretly had come to hate this public-facing D-Va, with all the associated pressure and overbearing fans, who were so obsequious and chaste in their desire to be with her.

The second D-Va was a secret D-Va, a 19-year-old Korean girl who had come to hate herself and the way people elevated her, who was tired of the expectation of fame and perfection. This D-Va wanted her tight, teenage pussy to be filled every night by a new male suitor. A male who didn’t care about her fame, her skills, her army of adoring fanboys. A man who treated her like  _shit,_ fucked her, beat her _,_  and made her love every second of being ground into the dirt. In pursuit of this, she’d first spent time on VR raceplay forums with the username PleaseRapeMyGookPussy, fingering herself to orgasm after orgasm… but even these dalliances had been limited by men who only wanted to play at what she hoped was real. She needed more.

Mei’s self-hatred was born of a more traditional genesis. Having a body type that wasn’t traditionally beautiful had given her a complex from a very young age. Early rejections turned her into an introvert, and as she became more of a public figure in her later years, the avalanche of invective that came with being a chubby woman in an anonymous discussion space caused a vast amount of self-loathing to incubate. She visited dating sites and was turned down. Prospective dates called her fat, a slob, a ‘sloppy chink piece of shit’. They told her to get surgeries and stomach-reductions, asked her if she liked to eat cock as much as fried rice, or just flat-out rejected her because they were ‘looking for someone a little thinner’. The men who previously might have ‘settled for’ Mei were busy fucking VR skanks via subscriptions to WaifuNet. 

Desperate to express herself sexually, Mei gravitated toward more and more illicit acts. She secretly became a cam-whore, trying to get some sexual attention, any sexual attention. When visitors had no interest in her shyness and stuttering, telling her to shut the fuck up and show her tits, her introverted personality made it hard for her to be successful. She spent months spreading her legs and flashing scumbags for a pittance of money. When her infrequent shows were over, her (usually Western) visitors didn’t tell her how hot she’d been, they told her that she was a fat piece of shit who wasn’t even worth the few units of currency they’d spent. 

Growing even more desperate, Mei made additional sacrifices in order to try to serve the burning in her loins, using her prodigious researching skills to find and interact with a community that promised to hook her up with “young foreign males interested in Asian women”. However, the transcript of her first time using the associated website reveals that it was yet another rude awakening for Mei:

> **Climatologist_mei**  has entered the DouyuAfterDark Hookup Private Room
> 
> **Climatologist_mei:**  Hello. It’s the first time for me using this site.
> 
> **Climatologist_mei:**  Oh wow… your cams are all showing your...
> 
> **dank12yo:**  who the fuck is this fat bitch
> 
> **killallomnics:**  a/s/l
> 
> **Vapekid:**  why are you wearing a parka indoors you stupid chink
> 
> **Climatologist_mei:**  31/f/China
> 
> **dank12yo:**  12/m/USA
> 
> **killallomnics:**  11/m/murica
> 
> **Vapekid:**  8/m/usa
> 
> **Climatologist_mei:**  So young? But you all have such big penises!
> 
> **Vapekid:**  yeah, that’s why your here isn’t it
> 
> **Vapekid:**  but why are you on this site if you’re in fucking china you cant even get here to fuck us you dumb rice burner
> 
> **dank12yo:**  take off the coat
> 
> **killallomnics:**  ya lets see what were workin with
> 
> **Climatologist_mei:**  Well I haven’t had much luck with dating and a friend recommended this site, she said I could meet some foreign boys ‘no questions asked’, but I guess you’re younger than I thought. And I didn’t realize you’d have cams showing your… you know. Uh… being a climatologist can get really stressful, so I thought maybe we could meet and get to know each other, and sorta just chill. I’m coming to the west for a conference in a few days, and we could meet up...
> 
> **killallomnics:**  DIDN’T READ LOL
> 
> **dank12yo:**  tits or gtfo 
> 
> **Vapekid:**  all I see when she types is CHING CHONG CHING CHONG
> 
> **Climatologist_mei:**  S-sorry! Was that too long?
> 
> **dank12yo:**  god shut up and take off your coat
> 
> **Climatologist_mei** : Sorry..I’m sorry! I guess I expected this to be more casual-
> 
> **Vapekid** : fuck this I’m logging off… this bitch is worthless
> 
> **dank12yo** : me too
> 
> **killallomnics** : yeah like I’d want to fuck this boring twat anyways
> 
> **Climatologist_mei** : Wait! I’ll take it off!
> 
> **dank12yo** : ha! look at her scrambling now… she must be desperate for boy cock
> 
> **killallomnics** : oh damn, those are some big tits
> 
> **Climatologist_mei** : Is this good?
> 
> **dank12yo** : zzzzzz take your t-shirt and bottoms off too
> 
> **Vapekid** : lol typical filthy chink hustling for dick once she realizes she can’t jerk us around
> 
> **dank12yo** : man i thought her coat was just puffy but no, she’s a fucking fat piece of shit
> 
> **killallomnics** : look at those huge milk bags
> 
> **killallomnics** : turn around and show us your ass
> 
> **Climatologist_mei** : Really?
> 
> **killallomnics** : ha look at her shes turning red
> 
> **killallomnics** : stop trying to cover up you slut
> 
> **dank12yo** : this bitch needs an eating disorder, fast
> 
> **Vapekid** : too many egg rolls
> 
> **dank12yo** : i bet shes never even had a boyfriend
> 
> **dank12yo** : this bitch is fat i’m out yo
> 
> **Climatologist_mei** : Wait, if you stay, I’ll do whatever you want! I’m just so lonely, please!
> 
> **dank12yo** : then hit yourself
> 
> **dank12yo** : zoom out the cam and slap yourself, and finger yourself while you talk about what a stupid, fat chink whore you are   
> 
> **Vapekid** : yeah, do that and i’ll stay too, i might even jerk off, everyone knows you filthy asian sluts are desperate for white cock
> 
> **killallomnics** : ha shes really doing it
> 
> **dank12yo** : what a disgusting fucking whore
> 
> **killallomnics** : slap yourself again
> 
> **Vapekid** : lol this is pathetic
> 
> **killallomnics** : pull your nose up into a pig shape and crawl around making oinking noses
> 
> **Vapekid** : slap your fat tits too, pull on em
> 
> **dank12yo** : lol shes doing it, this stupid cunt has no self-esteem at all

This incident was what incited Mei’s growing masochism. She had the first truly powerful orgasms of her life while being verbally abused and made to crawl around like an animal, cumming hard enough to almost pass out despite the constant disrespect and racism thrown her way by the onlookers. At the same time, she found herself entranced by the size of their penises. Having heard that men with large penises were sought-after by women, a sick sense of pride began to form inside her body at her ability to satisfy their desires, even if those desires were to treat her like she was human waste. Boys, she felt, were more accepting and less complicated than men. They were curious about all women, and thus curious about her. Mei thus lost interest in adult males and began to focus entirely on sinfully young boys, especially bratty, abusive ones. A twisted fantasy had formed in her head in which she was a boy’s property, existing as little more than a sex slave. The simplicity of the arrangement seemed so much better than her previous relationship struggles and rejections! To her twisted mind, if she could put herself in a situation where being ‘fat’ and ‘worthless’ was her only job… that would mean she’d finally found her place!

D-Va and Mei were able to admit these proclivities to each other only very gradually, but once everything was out in the open, the bond between them deepened and a plan was formed. This had been the genesis of the SF ESports team, D-Va’s personally-owned organization. Everything about SF - the rented teamhouse in Irvine, California, the contracted players, their participation in competitions - was a front. In reality, D-Va and Mei were accumulating a bunch of young, misanthropic Caucasian males who would be able to give them all the racially-charged sexual brutality they craved. SF was secretly an acronym for “Slant Fuckers”.

The first member to be given a contract was Amos Clarke, a tall and obese 16-year-old scumbag who hated women as much as daylight and exercise. Infamous on the StarCraft pro scene for having been recorded on voice-chat saying “I hope Hitler comes back and kills your whole family, you fucking Latvian jew-nigger” during a charity event (his voice mealy with a mouthful of half-chewed Doritos), he fit D-Va and Mei’s criteria perfectly. Amos split his time between laddering, where he greeted each opponent by telling them that he hoped they would ‘die IRL from AIDS’, and frequenting alt-right men’s rights advocacy forums. While lifting Mountain Dew to his double-chinned face and swigging liberally, he trolled trans women with body issues into suicide while keeping a self-righteous look on his pig-nosed and bespectacled mug. It was an alien landscape, razor-burn picking up where his neckbeard left off, and thick liver lips and a pallid moon-face completed the unappetizing picture. When he muttered “Cannon-rushing faggot!” into his mic, tossing an empty Hot6 bottle to the side into the huge, ill-organized pile of energy drink cans and Totinos pizza roll wrappers, opponents could hear in his voice just how much he meant every unkind word. Known by his in-game handle  **xxB1tchR4p3rxx** , he had been banned for toxicity five times, for hacking four times, and for ban evasion seven times. That he was offered a contract at all was a matter of much consternation in competitive circles. Why would the famous D-Va, universally acclaimed as the greatest Starcraft player of all time, sponsor such an unpleasant misanthrope?

D-Va claimed he was a “reclamation project”. But the truth was, his main job was pounding her tiny little Korean pussy with a cock that was just as fat, sweaty, and unsightly as the rest of him. This - the sight of Amos’ hairy ass pumping while scraping out her pussy with his unbelievably thick cock - greeted viewers of D-Va’s “Special Retirement Stream” as soon as they tuned in. It was a grotesque sight; the petite, adorable Hana Song with her feet planted on this fat loser’s hairy thighs while she bounced her tiny, tight pussy up and down on a cock that seemed as rotund as a beer stein. The crotch of her bodysuit had been ripped out, exposing her enough to do the deed, and the chest area was likewise vandalized, exposing perky breasts that tens of thousands of virgin fans had dreamed of groping. Hana made a stupid face and dual piece signs with her hands, moaning in her high voice with each squat, driving the nasty meat pole into herself all the way to the root. 

“Sit on my dick, you dog-eating whore,” Amos barked, and D-Va seemed desperate to obey. The oversized, out-of-shape male was flat on the floor like a beached whale, his fire hydrant of a dick standing straight up. It was probably the only way he could have sex, since his belly would have obscured his cock in most other positions, and the difference in size between the clumsy, oversized male teen and the tiny Korean girl only added to the sordid nature of the proceedings. When D-Va straightened her slim legs, pulling her pussy up on his shaft so that only the bulbous tip was inside her, one could see that Amos’ cock was covered in lumps and boils that made it seem almost gnarled. A purse-sized pair of uneven balls were beached against his cellulite-riddled thighs, one slightly larger than the other, as if his very testicles were misshapen. Uneven patches of hair sprouted here and there amongst the corpulent fleshworks.  

“Ugh, the gross tumors on his smelly cock are scraping out my insides!” D-Va moaned, dropping down again and letting everyone watch as her pussy lips were stretched amazingly wide. Tens of thousands of dreams were dashed in the seconds it took her cucked fans to realize the tight tunnel to which they’d fantasized about making sweet, sweet Korean TV Drama love was being utterly ruined by a piggish Caucasian kid’s abnormally large dick. Because of her small stature and the fierceness of the penetration, a dome-like bulge appeared in Hana’s midsection every time she squatted down to take her partner to the balls. “Nnngh! My womb is totally getting wrecked! It won’t be worth shit after this! Take a good look everyone!”

She fixed her eyes on the camera and continued bouncing up and down. “All you losers who dreamed about fucking me but never had the balls to do anything about it, now you’ll never get a chance! My pussy is getting totally fucked-out! It won’t even be useful as a toilet to piss in once this disgusting cock rips me up!” He eyes rolled back a bit as she shuddered, possibly with pleasure, possibly with the idea of being ruined forever by the nasty dick that was plundering her insides. “All those love letters you sent me as fan mail? I ended up as the bitch of a fat foreigner who beats me and calls me a gook!”

The chat in D-Va’s channel was at this point perhaps impossible to summarize, there being no shorthand for a mass of horrified male fans feeling sick to their stomachs at once. “I bet you’re still jerking off to me anyway, you fucking faggots!” D-Va spat. “This fat fuck beats me like he’s my pimp. I start every day by jamming my tongue up his asshole. I do it so often I’ve become totally familiar with the taste of his bitter Caucasian shit!”

“Who are you calling fat, you slope cumdump?” Amos complained, reaching forward with a fat-fingered hand to grab her long hair and pull her head back, then following with a slapping blow to her face with his meaty palm. Hana’s head lolled on her neck like a wilting sunflower, flying to one side, but she managed to keep her balance. 

“Unnf! Thank you for hitting me!” she chirped in a worshipful parody of her own spunky voice. Her cheek was already turning red, her eyes slightly watery from the impact. She then turned her attention to the camera, a remote webcam drone that was capturing the action from multiple angles, each more disgraceful than the last. When she spoke again, it was in the earnest tone of an etiquette lecture. “All Korean females deserve to be hit by white men. All you young girls watching, make sure you pay attention! Your life won’t be complete until you find a foreign scumbag to mistreat you and tear apart your pussy with his huge… nnngh... cock!” D-Va’s eyes were rolling back in her head a little as she sold out the futures of uncountable teenage Asian girls who were stream subscribers. Across South Korea and Asia in general, dozens of young and impressionable teen girls who considered D-Va their role model resolved to follow her advice and began to look online for foreigner boyfriends who would beat and rape them. 

The camera drone zoomed in with prurient intent, focusing on the spot where Amos’ huge cock was entering D-Va’s pussy, turning up the sound sensitivity so that everyone watching could hear every wet, sloppy, thrashing detail of their foul coupling. Hana’s high-pitched moans and cries for ‘more!’ were mixed with fleshy, sinewy sounds like roots being pulled from moist garden soil. It was obvious to every onlooker that the delicate flower of her teenage Korean pussy, waxed to utter hairlessness and colored the same innocent pink as the familiar markings on her cheeks, was being utterly defiled. Her tight, smooth labia were stretched to a taut, lube-splattered shine, bracketing the wet pinkness of her insides. Her inner walls prolapsed slightly each time she used her shapely legs to pull herself upward, clinging to the nasty, warty dick like a coating of bubblegum or latex. There was no hiding the extent to which the disgusting cock, which was as thick as D-Va’s thigh at the base, was ruining her insides. Her pussy was so stretched that it seemed the straining pea of her clit might pop off and fly into the camera lens. Her urethral opening was totally exposed and seemed to wink at viewers as she mopped the brutal organ with the fucksleeve of her tight Korean cunt.

“Nnngh, I can feel it making me loose! My worthless cunt will never be the same again!” D-Va moaned, not precisely looking at the camera, her face a mask of depraved pleasure as she used her athletic thighs to plunge her torso up and down.

The camera would at regular intervals pan to the prone Mei Ling Zhou, who despite her greater age and fuller figure, was disgracing herself even more disgustingly. The leather collar around her neck was fastened to a leash, which in turn led to the small hand of a child who couldn’t have been more than nine years old. His dirty, skinny body and missing front tooth lent him the wild countenance of one of Peter Pan’s lost boys. He wore only a pair of bulged-out white underwear and tinted goggles perched on his forehead, eyewear which functioned to keep his copper-colored bangs off of his forehead. Besides the collar and her trademark glasses, Mei was totally naked, her generous body unfolding in an expanse of milky flesh. Her hanging breasts and thick buttocks retained all of the size hinted by their swelling in the overstuffed parka she often wore, and were joined by features that had been more carefully hidden, such as the cute n’ chubby ring of fat around her midsection.

“Say hello to your ching chong viewers you fat whore,” the boy taunted, giving Mei’s leash a tug and pulling her slightly forward. Red-faced, the former climatologist gave an abbreviated boy while still on her hands and knees, averting her eyes from the camera slightly in a submissive manner.

“ _Hēi, wǒ yòu huílái la,_ ” she said, showing considerable embarrassment. “And hello to Western viewers as well.” Her accented English drew an even greater contrast between she and her underage captor, conjuring the image of a strange place and time, a precocious mad scientist and his personal concubine from the orient. Close to a million viewers gasped to themselves as the boy reached forward to roughly slap Mei’s face. 

_WHAP!_

“Introduce yourself  _by name_ , fatso!”

Mei gulped. “I’m Mei… Mei Ling-Zhou.”

“And what do you do?” The boy stepped forward to stand beside her, a grubby, skinny brat in his underwear, holding her leash, taking a handful of her brown hair, which was styled in Mei’s trademark partial updo with framing bangs. A quick tug raised her head and drew a gasp.

“I… I used to be a respected climatologist. But now-” She gulped, then moaned as she was slapped in the face again, a red handprint appearing on her puffy cheek. “N-now, my field of study is  _being a fat, cock-sucking chink whore!_ ” Her words came out as a sort of breathless, desperate release, as if this was information she’d been dying to propagate after holding it dear for an eternity.

The boy produced a large, rubbery dildo from behind his back as he forced the prone Chinese woman to degrade herself, holding it at his side menacingly. It was a very long sex toy, at least 16 flexible, gelatinous inches, the shaft ribbed. He bonked Mei on the nose with the bell-end. “And who’s teaching you, dummy?”

“Y-you are!” Mei moaned, eyes becoming fixated on the long, translucent fake penis. Though it wasn’t an overly thick toy, it bobbed menacingly beside her face. Surely no woman could swallow such a long rubber prong. She continued her diatribe with an expression of earnest admission, her eyes tightly shut. “I needed a pre-teen American boy to make me realize that I’m yellow-skinned trash!” Again she was slapped and moaned, again the dildo bonked her on the nose, this time knocking her glasses slightly askew. Her face was red with a combination of embarrassment, and flushing arousal.

The boy in question was a lad of nine named Ricky, and like Mei, he had an interest in science. He called himself ‘Professor Ricky’ and had been given the run of the teamhouse by D-Va and Mei, ostensibly as a member of the CS:GO team (the most fitting place for an underage sociopath), but in reality, as a deeply disturbed presence who saw girls as experiment subjects rather than real people. They had found him by reaching out to social workers who had been called in to deal with ‘troubled children’, claiming their interest had a basis in philanthropy. Even the caseworkers had tried to warn them away from Richard. 

He was a wiry, animalistic, perpetually dirty boy, the kind of kid who always had soil under his fingernails or between the toes of his bare feet, whose ratty clothing was barely holding together.

When Richard was five, he would often be found on his driveway, burning ants with a magnifying glass. He spent his carefree days searching out praying mantises to clap a jar over, forcing a fight to the death. At seven, he discovered an abandoned icebox in the town dump and took a keen interest. Neighbors started to report that their pets had disappeared - three cats, two dogs, even a parakeet. Richard took detailed notes on how long each animal was able to survive before passing away. Later that year, his drunken mother asphyxiated on her own vomit after a bender. Rather than calling emergency services, Richard had taken notes while watching her die. His father being long gone, he was put into the care of the state.

Until being found by D-Va and Mei. 

They quickly found that he enjoyed keeping Mei bound, gagged, and naked, while subjecting her to various ‘scientific’ indignities. He beat her, verbally abused her, branded her, marked her. He looked at both of them as if they were no different than the ants he’d so frequently incinerated on his driveway, to gaze back at him was to discover his pale blue eyes contained no trace of humanity. Mei was only a specimen to this boy, and that knowledge turned her on more than anything she’d ever thought of before. She knew he had no limits to his cruelty, and the idea excited her.

“Do it,” Ricky prompted, dropping the sex toy dismissively on the ground in front of Mei, tugging her collar down as if to encourage her. She took it with two hands and poised the tip at her mouth, feeding it into the round seal of her lips, inch after inch. When half the length was inside her, more than eight inches sliding down her throat, her cheeks puffed out and she made a coughing, gagging noise before withdrawing the whole thing. Lines of throat-slime and saliva dripped to the floor, and the boy slapped her face again.

“Tell ‘em about the cure,” he prompted, and pointed to the camera. Mei, still coughing a little, raised her head and looked out to her viewers with watery eyes.

“If you’re a fat and stupid bitch like me, don’t worry, there is something you can do to fix it!” Mei blurted, her voice sounding a bit thick with the rough beating her throat had just taken but otherwise exactly the same one that had been heard chattering away in Chinese-accented English at climatology conferences the world over. Securing the spit-sloppy sex toy with two hands, she slid it into her mouth again and down her throat, forcing it in, making her own neck strain and bulge and her face redden. Undignified choking noises filled the air once again as Mei jammed the dildo lewdly into her own face, obviously straining as she pressed it hard. She balanced on her knees, maintaining a semi-upright position.

After nearly a half-minute of her choking, gagging and drooling, resulting in copious runners of spit sliding between her large tits, Mei’s body seemed to hitch and her eyes to widen. Suddenly, a nasty sound of expulsion exploded from her throat, and she pulled ten inches of dildo from her throat just in time. For a moment, the shy Chinese scientist sounded like an animal in it’s death throes.

“Glaaaaaaaargggggck!” 

A slick, lumpy explosion of whitish-yellow vomit exploded from her mouth, splattering all over her own chest and pouring down her naked body, slopping to the floor in a nasty, thick puddle. With the first expulsion Mei had totally soaked her own curvy front, but it was by no means the last; no sooner had the massive regurgitation passed than a second and third eruption blew out of her mouth and onto the floor in projectile fashion. The paste-like sludge painted her upper body, and after a short period of recovery, Mei began to rub it all over her huge breasts, lathering them in her own puke, teasing them, rubbing them, showing the heavy meat bags off to every viewer in all their vomit-coated glory. As she wallowed in her own filth, the clearly aroused Chinese woman addressed the camera again, a corona of puke still coating the outside of her mouth.

“Nnngh, it feels so good to rub it all over my body!” she moaned, making sure to slather some on her thick upper thighs as well. She spoke earnestly to the stream viewership. “If you are a young girl,” she dictated, “and boys do not like you because you are too heavy, please do like I do and make yourself puke!” She flashed a vomit-choked smile. “After all, if you’re fat, you might as well kill yourself!”

Though no counter was displayed on stream keeping tally of the number of impressionable teen girls that Mei’s declaration had doomed to anorexia, it might as well have been. She was selling out not only herself, but a generation of her young admirers who, until that point, had been convinced that looks weren’t everything. And yet she had only just begun to defile herself and her legacy.

“If you don’t want to use your fingers, just have a boy do this!” she suggested, and then leaned her head forward toward young Ricky, all but inviting the filthy, leering boy to take a grip on her head. The sinfully young male stripped out of his briefs and tossed them aside, revealing a cock that was hairless and very long for his tender age, the size of his kiddie-cock a final inappropriateness in a long line of them. Naked except for the goggles on his forehead, Ricky gripped Mei’s head like a melon and drilled his grease-stained, dirty cock down her throat with absolutely no preamble or fanfare whatsoever. How long had it been since he had a bath? Who knew? His body was coated with streaks of dirt, and the frenetic way he thrust his tight little butt while pounding Mei’s face, he looked monkey than human.

His balls slapped her chin, and it was obvious from the way the boy treated Mei that he didn’t care about her well-being, her dignity, or her ability to breathe. He only released his grip to slap her or pinch her nose shut, making her gag and choke on a cock that was drilled to the hilt. Drool and throat slime poured down her chin, further oiling her body, and her hands continued to rub it all over herself. The boy called her a “lardo” and a “filthy chink” while leaning over her face like a he was emptying his balls into a semen-milking machine, his skinny upper body tilted over the top of her head. 

“Gag on my dick you fat whore!” he said, his high and playful child’s voice sounding absurd and dark voicing the words. He buried himself to the balls, his cockhead lodged halfway to her stomach, and slapped her face again. There was clattering sound as Mei’s glasses were knocked off her head and to the floor.  Her face turned red, her hands scrabbled at his bony young thighs as if to push him away, but Ricky was insistent and seemed to be enjoying her oral degradation. Mei convulsed, her chest hitching again, her arms falling limply to her sides. Though she was an adult woman, she was being ragdolled by the sadistic little bastard, and every detail of the defilement was being broadcast over the internet.

Ricky kept his cock jammed deep in Mei’s throat as she gagged, and a thick explosion of puke erupted from her mouth again, coating his hairless pubic area and his balls, with much of the overflow slopping onto the floor. He withdrew his cock, the shaft completely coated with digested rice and noodle sludge, and let the length slap against Mei’s meaty breasts. These were certainly an attribute that many had admired despite any complaints they might have had about her waistline, and here, slick with vomit, they were ripe for titfucking, even as she spewed a huge stream of lumpy puke down on top of Ricky’s dick and her own body, forming a reservoir in her own cleavage as she moved with shaky hands to press her tits together around the boy’s shaft. She worked him with eyes half-lidded, looking equal parts overwhelmed and aroused, letting his dick plow the vomit-slick tunnel formed by her tit-meat, pressing herself onto either side of his shaft using her own hands. Long strings of spit and puke hung from her slack mouth. “Please cum on my face!” she begged, her voice hoarse from her puking.

Both sides of the livestreamed disgrace, D-Va and Mei, were thus approaching their conclusions at the same time. Hana was still bouncing up and down on a cock that seemed to carry the size and texture of a tree stump, squeaking like a wounded Pokemon in her high voice, using two hands to rub a midsection that seemed to tent upward in a cock shape every time she dipped low, allowing the grotesque organ to pound to the back of her unprotected womb.

“Nnngh! I’m cumming from fucking this fat American loser!” D-Va moaned. “The special place where I’m supposed to have a baby is totally stuffed with his dick!” As her eyes rolled back again, she dropped herself as hard as she could onto the brutal cock, without any regard for her own health or well-being. A sound like meat being torn from the bone echoed in the room and the cock-shaped bulge appeared in her belly even more pronounced than before. Her partner, Amos, was also reaching his climax, and the broadcast relayed every detail whether her horrified fans wanted to see or not; the way his huge, hairy balls clenched and twitched while delivering what must have been a huge amount of semen into the tiny Korean girl, the way her belly gradually inflated as her womb was stuffed with the American teen’s rancid genetic material, and the disgraceful sound of sperm bubbling and spurting into her. The expansion and ruination of her formerly tight pussy was audible, and there could be no doubt that Hana’s previously sought-after womb was being turned into nothing but a loose, stretched out semen-sack.

Meanwhile, Dr. Ricky was uncorking his pre-pubescent load all over Mei’s face, making sure to spurt the degrading cumshot everywhere he could, gluing her nostrils shut, painting her eyelashes, splattering her hair, sewing her mouth shut with white stitches of chowderly cocksnot. Mei seemed to love every second of it and continued her slick, nasty titjob with enthusiasm, wanting to coax every drop of kiddie cum out of the boy’s long, nasty cock. When it was over, she was panting, her face defiled and splattered with cum, her own pleasingly rotund and matronly form slick with her own puke. Her expression was dazed, and when Ricky slapped her again and grabbed her hair, throwing her face-down into her own thick vomit, she hardly seemed to react, only laying with a serene smile, eyes rolled back, one cheek pressed down into the mess.

“T-thank you! Please choke-fuck me anytime you like with your big penis!” her wavering voice managed.

“Tell all the Chinese girls out there what the best way to diet is,” Ricky prompted, crossing his arms. He had retaken her leash, and placed one dirty foot on the back of her neck.

“T-to stay thin,” Mei babbled, “be sure to drink only the semen of young foreign boys! If you eat anything else, ask them to skull fuck you until you vomit!” She moaned lustfully, seeming utterly cowed and defeated by her 8-year-old ‘master’, and was soon joined in the vomit pile by D-Va, who had been thrown from her cock-sitting position by a rising Amos. The huge, obese galoot of a teen had finished with his orgasm and tossed her aside like a sack of garbage. 

Leaning her head against the Mei’s side, the tiny, orgasm-addled Korean girl was whispering dreamily up to the ceiling as she cradled her cum-stuffed belly. “There’s so much smelly cum stinking up my womb, I feel like I’m already pregnant! Nnnngh, there’s so much, I’m knocked up for sure!” Her limber, youthful body was a contrast to Mei’s thick matronly one, and as she cuddled up to her friend on the puke-soaked floor, it looked like a child curling up with her teddy bear. 

The two Asian women females embraced each other, seeming to enjoy wallowing in utter disgrace, still knowing in some distant part of their minds that every detail was being recorded and streamed across the world to millions of viewers. Their lives as Overwatch operatives were over, they were total disgraces as human beings now, let alone agents of justice. The once immaculate and capable D-Va was just some fat loser’s cumdump, and anyone who had dreamed of fucking her could no doubt only think about how ripped apart and defiled her pussy and womb must be after taking on such a grotesquely large, tumor-riddled penis. As for Mei, she certainly wouldn’t be invited to demo any new climate-related technology now that people realized she was the abused pedophile slut of a dirty 9-year-old, not to mention an anorexia advocate who wanted to see every Chinese girl follow in her footsteps, getting throat-fucked and puking their guts out. They had started the broadcast as humans, but were now subhuman pieces of shit. To the two women, it was a small price to pay for a future filled with nothing but abuse and mind-shattering orgasms.

“You better not really be pregnant,” Amos was muttering to D-Va, pulling up his boxer shorts. “I ain’t taking care of a kid or getting jewed on child support.” He was already tearing open a bag of greasy potato chips and shoveling them into his mouth.

“Even if I am, just beat me until I have a miscarriage!” moaned D-Va dreamily, rubbing her thighs together and cradling her semen-stuffed gut. This obscenity, in the same voice that had once taunted opponents by yelling ‘GG!’ over voice coms. Through it all - the slaps, the bouncing on cock, being thrown on the ground - her trademark headphones had remained in place, and her whisker-like facepaint mostly unmussed. “Punch me right in the stomach!”

“Me too!” moaned Mei, her hand sliding between her thick thighs at the thought, her full of Chinese-accented earnestness. “Please, Professor Ricky, punch me as well, for being such a fat whore!”

“Well, no time like the present,” Amos grumbled through a mouthful of chips, and then bent over (not an easy task for a hulk as fat as he was) and grabbed Hana by the hair, dragging her to her feet like an extremely fat King Kong manhandling a movie starlet. At the same time, Ricky tugged his leash, encouraging Mei to stumble to her feet. As every detail was relayed to the masses, both abusive males sized up D-Va and Mei, wound up extravagantly and delivered crushing blows to the stomachs of their targets.

“Pwauuah!” groaned D-Va, her cum-belly compacted. 

“Guuuuuuuagh!” croaked Mei, her chubby midsection crushed.

Both women lost control of their bodies, eyes rolling back, functions haywire, tongues out. They collapsed to the ground next to each other. A heavy creampie poured out from D-Va’s pussy, the impact having forced more than a liter of disgusting, lumpy cum from her womb. An arc of helpless piss sprayed from her pisshole and onto the floor. Mei vomited extravagantly  _again_ , the projectile squash-colored mess spouting up into the air before slopping down to coat both her and D-Va’s catatonic faces in mush. Utterly enthralled by the abuse, both of them had mind-breaking, soul-crushing orgasms.

The last scene of the broadcast, before the channel was finally taken offline, was both D-Va and Mei being pissed on at luxurious length while opaque masks of clotted puke still obscured their faces. As their bodies laid out in parallel on the floor, there was not an inch of them that wasn’t stick with cum, piss, or other bodily fluids. Occasionally one of them would gurgle something about cumming, or wanting to be hit or fucked. 

In total, the broadcast lasted forty-eight minutes, but the effects were very far-reaching, both in terms of embarrassment for Overwatch and the message sent to hundreds of thousands of young women who had viewed the two as role models. Two hours after the broadcast ended, a 15-year-old girl named Emma who had idolized D-Va and Mei, weighed herself. She grimaced as the scale indicated she had 12% body fat. 

“I’m a fat stupid whore,” she whispered to her empty bedroom, shoving her fingers down her throat. 

Later that night, she, still wanting to emulate her heroes, she would ask her older brother to choke-fuck her hard.


End file.
